The Sapphire Princess
by starkidsftw
Summary: He was marked when he was sixteen. She was marked when she was twenty. His is a snake, hers is a willow. One was a choice, one is an obligation. Neither is truly understood, and both will change everything. "You shall collect the Princess, Draco Malfoy, and you will bring her back where she belongs."
1. Secrets

**NEW STORY! Dramione Wartime AU**

 **Main characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini (because I can't write a Dramione without Blaise), Seamus Finnigan, Fred Weasley, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Lupin, the Order... **

**Timeline : Canon up until the end of sixth year. Wartime AU. Starts three years after Dumbledore's death.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**.

* * *

 _496 AD_

The midnight moon crowned the sky above, casting shadows through the dense forest. A few bats flew over the treetops. The fluttering of their wings broke through the overbearing silence of the night.

It was the Summer Solstice, though none of the forest's inhabitants were aware of such a fact. The tightly knit pattern of trees and bush prevented any human interference within the borders of the woods. Only animals and vermin called this place home.

In fact, the only witnesses that night were a few nocturnal birds and animals. An owl was perched on a tree branch, eyes narrowed and surveying the forest. He was the first to notice the change in the wind.

The trees started to wave slightly in the night air. What had been a calm night changed suddenly. The wind picked up quickly, sending tremors through the Taiga.

The owl grasped his tree branch with his talons, refusing to be upset by the Anemoi's whims. Ruffling his feathers in discomfort, the bird turned his attention back to the woods he protected.

That's when he first saw her.

The trees were bending to the wishes of the air. Down in the dense forest, the owl watched as the old rooted ancestors moved to the side to make a path. From a break in the treeline emerged the first and only human the owl had ever seen in his woods.

It was a woman. She walked through the forest slowly but with a secret purpose she carried in her chest. Her bare feet touched the forest floor gently as she carried on. Each step sent a wave of energy through the ground, the roots, and the trees.

The owl tilted his head at the intruder, confused but not threatened. As if sensing she was being watched, the woman's large green eyes snapped to where her watcher was sitting. Seeing nothing but the bird, she gave a visible sign of relief.

"Hello, dear friend," she said softly. "Thy watchful eyes have startled me."

The owl gave a small, little hoot in response.

The woman smiled. Now that she was standing still, her image and beauty became clear.

She stood tall and willowy. Long, auburn hair fell to her waist. A small crown of flowers and vines adorned the top of her head. Fair-skinned and lovely, her large green eyes and demure mouth possessed a secrecy to them. Behind the beauty was something mysterious and powerful.

She was dressed in a long grey cloak which barely covered the navy dress she wore beneath. Strands of gold adorned the sleeves and wrapped gently around her waist. Her bare feet peaked out from beneath the layers of dress. Upon her breast lay a large blue sapphire. It seemed to emit a soft glow. It was attached to a bronze chain which hung around her neck.

She was almost other-worldly. Her entire person sent an unusual energy through the forest, which pulsed through the heart of every living creature in the vicinity.

It was almost magical.

The woman turned away from where the owl was sitting and continued walking deeper into the trees. They all moved obediently out of the way.

The watcher flew off its perch and slowly glided through the air in pursuit of the strange human. She seemed to know she was being followed, but it did not seem to deter her from advancing.

Eventually, she came to the deepest part of the wood. Around her, the trees changed to open a small meadow. She walked across the soft grass to the centre of the clearing.

The owl landed on one of the moved trees and settled itself to watch.

The woman knelt on the ground. She looked over the forest floor for a moment, lips pursed in concentration.

Eventually she nodded to herself. She lifted her hand and waved it slowly over the ground in front of her.

Suddenly, the ground began to move. It rumbled for a moment, and then collapsed to make a small cavern at her feet. The owl squawked in fear and confusion.

The woman held up her hand. "Patience, young one," she whispered. "I must concentrate."

The owl ruffled its feathers with indignation at the order.

The woman lifted her hands to her neck and grabbed at the bronze chain. She lifted it over her head and out of her auburn hair. She held the large sapphire in her hand. The moonlight shone upon her from the break in the trees, causing the jewel to sparkle.

"'Tis too powerful," she murmured, caressing it gently. She looked over her shoulder at the owl watching her. A smile played at the corners of her lips. "Come down here, dear one," she said, gesturing for the bird to join her.

The owl took off from its perch and soared down to the woman. He landed on her shoulder, letting his talons sink into her coat.

If she felt any pain, she gave no sign of it. She lifted the large jewel so that the owl could see it up close.

"You see this?" she said quietly. "This is a sapphire."

The owl gave her a look that she recognized easily.

Chuckling, she continued. "But it is more than a beautiful jewel. It is a holding place for powers beyond your wildest imagination. They call it the Le Fay Sapphire. It holds all the magics of my family. Tis a great responsibility to even hold it in my hand."

She sighed. "However, little one, hard times have befallen this kingdom. Desperation outweighs sensibility. Mad men with pitch forks hunt for me, and for this jewel. With it, they would be unstoppable."

"Even the king has begun eyeing it," she admitted, voice smaller than before. She took a deep breath. "Not that I could not defend my legacy against Arthur, but I cannot defend myself completely against that meddling sorcerer of his and the rest of the kingdom."

She reached up and ran her finger gently down the owl's feathers. "Life should not be lived in hiding, young one. But thou should always protect what they must. Thou must prevent power greater than imagination from falling into the hands of the wicked."

She took one last look at the sapphire, then lowered it into the hole she had created. She waved her hand once more over the ground, and the stones that had fallen away quickly took back their place. There was no remaining trace that it had even existed.

The woman reached into her large sleeve and pulled out a small dagger. She held her palm out flat over the buried sapphire. With her other hand, she ran the dagger across her palm sharply. She winced, but kept going.

She balled her cut hand into a fist and squeezed. Slowly, small droplets of blood oozed down her fingers, and fell to the ground. As her blood consecrated the forest floor, she muttered strange words under her breath.

Her bleeding hand glowed violet at her mutterings. Suddenly, sparks flew outwards, circling her, the ground, and the terrified owl resting upon her shoulder.

They were engulfed in the sparks. As they encircled the duo, the winds picked up. Dust from the ground flew into the small tornado. The woman kept muttering, louder and louder as the forest witnessed the cyclone of magic and nature.

The enchantress's eyes snapped open, and she shot a small grin at the little bird who was gripping onto her shoulder for dear life. Her hair waved wildly behind her, but she stayed rooted to the ground. The owl watched as her eyes glowed bright gold for a moment. She turned her attention back to the patch of ground before her.

"Oh spirits," she said, voice strong. Her blood still poured onto the spot. "I vow on my bloodline to tie my life and the lives of my daughters to the sapphire. As long as the Le Fays remain, the jewel shall stay hidden. 'Tis my duty. 'Tis our duty. I command you, spirits of the earth, hide this power beneath your surface." The winds continued pounded them. The woman looked around one last time and took a deep breath before shouting.

"I command you!"

At her final order, the winds died.

The dust of the woman's spell floated to the ground with grace. She opened her palm to see that it had healed. The blood was gone.

On the ground, in the place where she had been draining, nothing remained of her ritual but a small medallion. It was a part of the floor. It could not be moved by force nor by will. Upon it was an image of a willow tree.

The woman lifted up her left arm and pulled back the sleeve of her dress. On her wrist was the same image of the willow tree. It seemed to have burned into her skin. She let the sleeve cover it once again.

The woman sighed and stroked the owl's feathers. Her new little friend gave a little hoot.

"It is safe for now," she whispered, smiling at the bird before her cheerful expression was replaced by something more somber. She sighed. "I am not fool enough to believe that this is forever. However, my bloodline is strong, and one day, when my daughters become Protectors, they shall fight the darkness."

She smiled once again, and stared down at where the hidden cavern lay below the ground.

"They shall fight the darkness, and they shall win."

* * *

 _1979 AD_

The woman sat quietly in her husband's study. She tried to keep her eyes from flitting to check the clock hanging upon the wall.

He had left her and their daughter nearly four hours beforehand. The young girl, barely a few months old, was asleep in the nursery at the moment. She was only a room away if danger approached. The wards were strong, but nothing seemed to be strong enough in this day and age.

The woman clutched her arm in pain. The birthmark of her clan, a willow tree on the inside of her wrist, burned whenever the family or their secrets were in danger.

The mark had begun to itch the moment her husband had been summoned by the Dark Lord. As soon as he had floo-ed away, the itch had increased into a full out burn.

She kept breathing, trying to ignore the pain and the worry that accompanied it. The mark had never burned her before. In fact, she only knew of its purpose because of her mother's warning. It was traditional that when a woman of the clan became of age her mother was to reveal the ancient secret of the family. The woman thought back to the day her mother had told her.

The fear that had overtaken her was nearly crushing.

When the daughter came of age, the burden of their ancestor was passed down to her. When her mother had told her little girl the truth, the elder woman had been unable to hide the relief of knowing that her time as Protector was up. It was her daughter's turn now to show her strength.

The woman thought of her little girl in the next room. In twenty years' time, she would step into the role that had been meant for her since birth.

It was an honor, her mother had said. It was an honor to hold this power and to protect it against the wickedness.

The woman thought of the mark on her husband's arm. She shivered. Wickedness was all around.

As her husband's absence hit the five hour mark, the woman found she could no longer sit and wait. She stood up on shaking legs and walked from the study and into the next room. She stood at the door for a moment, her eyes resting on her sleeping daughter.

The little girl rolled over, eyes blinking open.

"Hello love," the mother whispered. She walked over to the crib and lifted her daughter into her arms. As she cradled her darling girl, she heard the doors of the manor burst open from below.

She froze as another burn quaked through her mark.

"Tiberius?" she called. She held her daughter to her breast with one hand, and reached into her pocket with the other. Pulling out her wand, she made her way to the door.

As she reached the hall, she looked towards the staircase. Her husband had just reached the top.

She sighed in relief. "Oh thank Morganna, I thought that…"

He shook his head quickly. This was when she first noticed his bedraggled appearance. His robes were torn all over. A cut from his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth was still bleeding. His hair was singed everywhere.

She fell silent. Her husband made his way to her quickly, wrapping her in an embrace.

"We are no longer safe," he whispered, pulling back.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh Celia, _he knows_."

The woman's heart dropped out of her chest. "He….he knows?"

Tiberius nodded.

"How?" Celia asked desperately. "We've hidden for…for centuries. Over a millennium!"

Tiberius clutched her face between his hands. "He does not know everything. He does not know the ritual."

She paused. "So we are safe."

He shook his head. "No. He tried to beat it out of me."

"How did you escape?"

"Snape showed up," he whispered. "He had heard something that was of utmost concern to the Dark Lord. He put Lucius in charge of me, but the bastard has nothing on me in terms of skill."

Celia suddenly saw the gravity of the situation. She looked around desperately. "We must escape. We must go into hiding. We must do something!"

Tiberius's eyes saddened considerably. "You know we cannot do that. You are a Protector. You cannot hide forever."

"We've been hiding for over a millennium!" she cried desperately.

Tiberius kissed her forehead. "Not well," he murmured. "Everyone knows the legends."

"Legends," she spat. "Not truth."

"It is your blood, my dear Celia," he whispered. "We must stand tall and strong."

"This is not your fight," she said.

"But it is," he reminded her. "I am loyal to the Dark Lord, but I am firstly loyal to my wife. And you, wife, are loyal to this cause. Your entire family is. This is your purpose."

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "The bloodline must survive," she said quietly.

Her husband nodded. "The bloodline must survive."

The two of them looked down at the babe curled up in Celia's arms.

"Our darling," Tiberius whispered, caressing the cheek of his daughter. "She is our only chance."

Celia nodded. The mark on her arm had started burning again. "He is coming," she whispered, eyes suddenly fearful.

Tiberius felt it too. "You must take her!" he said, quickly, ushering her back into the nursery. He closed the door tightly behind him, as if a wooden door would stop the darkest wizard of their generation.

"Where?" She demanded.

Tiberius turned to her quickly. "Just because a Protector cannot hide does not mean the next generation cannot."

Celia froze. "You can't be suggesting…"

"What other choice do you have?" he cried. "The bloodline must survive!"

The woman stared at her husband for a moment, then nodded. A few seconds later, she disappeared into thin air.

Tiberius choked back any and all tears he had. He ran from the room and down the staircase. Once he had reached the grounds, he turned back to look upon the manor that had been in his family for generations. Without a moment's hesitation, he set the whole thing aflame.

There must be no trace. No trace of his daughter. No trace of his wife's family history. The whole affair must die that night. In the flames of the night, any record of their secret burned. Nothing but ashes remained when the Dark Lord finally arrived.

Tiberius did not try to fight as his old master broke the wards. No, he stood tall and strong, as he said he should. He stood as the Protector, while his wife did her duty to secure the bloodline. She needed to secure the bloodline.

The Dark Lord realized almost immediately that his wife had escaped. In a bout of rage, he turned on the husband.

"Good luck, Hermione," he whispered just before life left his body.

* * *

 **Review :) I'll try and update this once a week. I already have the first five chapters written.**


	2. Innocents

**Hey guys! The response I have gotten to this story is remarkable; 60 followers after just the first chapter. :) You guys are the best.**

 **Expect an update once a week, very typical to how FHIW was updated. I'm starting University tomorrow, so wish me luck friends.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 _September 19, 1999 AD_

"Ahhhhh!" the young witch screamed, awaking from her deep slumber to an assault of pain. She rolled over on herself, clutching her arm to her chest in desperation. The pain would not concede. Another wave hit her, and she cried out once more.

"Hermione!" someone shouted from the other side of her door. She recognized the voices of Harry and Ron, but could hardly answer them. The pain was choking her. She screamed again.

Her two best friends burst through the door. The light blinded her, and she raised her arms to block the burn. As she moved her arms, her left wrist seared one final, glorious time.

Then it stopped.

She collapsed back onto bed as her friends rushed to her side.

"Are you alright?" Harry demanded, looking her over for any sign of physical distress.

"We heard screaming," Ron stammered. His face was white, his eyes wide and frantic.

Hermione took several ragged breaths, trying to alleviate the left over ache from the sudden attack. "I….I don't know," she whispered, clutching her arm to her chest. "I don't know what happened. I was sleeping and then I felt like I was being crucio-ed."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Are you still in pain?"

"It's passing," she breathed, trying to stop tears from leaking out the corners of her eyes. "Oh Merlin, I'm scared."

Ron moved from his kneeling position to sit on the bed with her. He reached over and wrapped her up in his arms. She relaxed into this familiar position of comfort.

Harry's eyebrows were scrunched up. He eyed how she was cradling her arm. "Is that where it hurt?" he gestured.

She nodded mutely. Harry lifted his hand and gently pulled her arm away from the protective hold. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the dispelling the remaining pain.

"Uhh, Hermione?"

"What?" she snapped, focusing on her breathing; in, out, in and out.

"Have you always had a birthmark?"

Hermione's eyes popped open. After a moment of focusing, she directed her gaze down to where Harry was looking.

On the inside of her wrist, a mark had appeared. It looked like it had burned directly into her skin. It was a small tree. Harry grazed it with his thumb and Hermione stifled a moan.

His eyes shot up in worry. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, trying desperately to calm the blush that had erupted on her face. "No," she stammered. "It…it tingled."

Harry gave her a look but didn't push the matter further. He once again looked over the mark. "Have you ever seen something like this before?"

"No," she said. A wave of relief washed over her as the final traces of pain disappeared from her wrist. "The pain is gone."

Harry sighed, the worry lines disappearing from his face. "Well, it's an obvious question mark. Do you think you can go back to sleep and we can talk about this in the morning when the rest of the Order's up? It's three am."

"I can probably sleep." She turned to Ron. "Could you stay?"

He nodded immediately and readjusted his body position so that she was comfortably curled into him. Harry smiled at them both and quietly exited the room.

Once the door was closed and the darkness had returned, Ron brushed a few pieces of her hair behind her shoulder.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, the worry still permeating his voice.

She gave a quick, stiff nod. "The pain's all gone now."

"Thank Merlin," he responded. He placed a small kiss on the crown of her head.

"Oh, Hermione?" he whispered once more.

"Mhm?"

She could almost hear his smile.

"Happy birthday."

* * *

"It seems familiar," Lupin frowned, examining the mark on Hermione's wrist carefully. It was the next morning and the rest of the Order staying at Headquarters had been filled in on the night's events.

They were sitting in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. It had been nearly five years since Voldemort's return and the re-inauguration of the Order of the Phoenix, but this home still remained headquarters.

The war had been full-fledged for nearly three years now. Ever since Snape murdered Dumbledore that night on the Astronomy Tower, the Wizarding World had been thrust into an inevitable state of war.

Over the course of the past three years, the war had increased from some disappearances and murders into a society torn down the middle. The dark and the light were playing a never-ending game of tug-of-rope. Any time it seemed like a battle or a mission had advanced them forward, they lost another one.

Hermione, Harry and Ron had been fully fledged members of the Order since Dumbledore's murder over three years prior. They had not returned to Hogwarts after the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. Instead, they had devoted themselves to missions and battles, and of course, the task that their old Headmaster had left for them.

They had made some but not much progress on that front. After a mission to the infiltrated Ministry a year and a half prior, they had discovered the locket in the dead hands of Dolorus Umbridge. A few months later, they had done a mission to Hogwarts where they had gained possession of several basilisk fangs.

The locket was gone. The diary was gone. The ring was gone.

Whatever remained of Ravenclaw, the cup, and the snake remained.

It was so hard. Everything was so hard now. Three years in, it seemed as if they were making no headway against the Dark Side. In the most recent to attempt and liberate a slave hold of Muggleborns, they had been completely decimated. Their side had faced losses they had not thought imaginable. For her in particular, losing Dean and Oliver Wood had been incomprehensible.

She had seen Oliver die herself, and she still couldn't believe he was gone. His smile, his incessant teasing as she continued to read while recovering from the Battle of Yaxley manner, his charm, all gone in one flash of terrible green light.

She felt tears spring to her eyes at the memory, and forced herself back to the present, where Lupin was examining the strange mark on her arm.

"It looks like a willow tree," he observed, making sure not to touch the still inflamed symbol. He looked up to meet her eyes. "Does it hold any significance to you?"

She began to shake her head, but stopped. "My mother," she muttered. "She planted a willow tree in our backyard."

"Your mother?" Lupin asked, surprised. "Before she died?"

Hermione flinched at the reminder. Harry saw her discomfort and jumped in.

"Do you think there could be a connection there?" he asked, walking around the table to rub Hermione's shoulders. She raised her other hand to hold his.

Lupin sat back on the chair behind him. "I'm not sure," he murmured thoughtfully. "It's all very odd."

Someone chuckled on the other side of the table. Lupin raised his eyebrows and glanced over. "Yes, George?"

The twin shrugged, unabashed. "I mean, a mythical power burns a willow tree into Hermione's arm while she sleeps and the best you've got it "this is odd"?"

Tonks, who was sitting next to George, smacked the twin round the head. "Do you have anything better?" she demanded. Her husband shot her a smile.

"Yeesh woman," George muttered, rubbing the spot she had hit. "I'm just saying."

Harry sighed. "Can we go back to the issue at hand?"

Lupin nodded. "I'll look into it, but for now, it doesn't seem to be an urgent concern. It's stopped hurting, correct?"

Hermione nodded.

Lupin, though tired, cracked a rare smile. "Not hurting is a good thing to be these days."

He stood up and looked at the small assembly in the room. "We might as well go get everyone up," he said. "I received word of an attempted raid in the next few days. We should begin prep for that."

Tonks nodded, standing up. Her pink hair metamorphosed into a short, black, pixie cut. She only wore that hair in preparation for a battle.

She turned to the others. "George, could you go get everyone up?" The twin bounded up in enthusiasm before Tonks cut him off. "NO flames this time, alright?"

He dragged his feet a little as he left the room.

As Tonks and Lupin fell into conversation, Harry pulled a chair up to where Hermione was sitting.

"You alright?" he asked, quietly. She knew he wasn't asking about her mysterious new birthmark.

"It's been two years," she whispered. Harry shrugged in response.

"My parents died nineteen years ago and it still hurts."

Hermione choked back a sob. Her beautiful, innocent parents. They had been found burnt to death in their home a week after Hermione participated in her first official battlement. The muggle authorities had attributed it to a house fire. Nothing out of the ordinary. But she knew better. It had been a message.

Message received.

Harry took her hands in his and massaged them gently. "You don't need to be strong for me, Hermione."

She let a few tears roll down her face. "They were innocent!" she sobbed.

Harry reached forward and pulled Hermione towards him. As she cried into his shirt, he ran his hand over her hair.

"There are many innocents in this war," he muttered. "There are families torn apart when the parents had been neutral. All those muggles and muggleborns they killed had nothing against their name but their parentage. This is a war of innocents and the death of innocence itself."

"But that's why we keep fighting, isn't it?" he murmured into her hair. "So that one day, the innocents can stand free and without fear."

She nodded, tears rolling silently down her face. "So the innocents can remain innocent."

"Always," he whispered. "Now, everyone is going to be down here for the meeting in a few minutes. Do you want to stay?"

"Yes," she replied with hesitation. "I'm not the only one who has lost people they love."

Harry gave her a sad look. For a moment, he let down his guard and she was able to see the man ravaged by the horrors of war. A second later, he forced his face into a smile.

"Keep fighting, 'Mione," he said. "You've got to fight for them. And apparently for the willow tree faction of the universe."

She couldn't hold in the laugh that burst forward like the start of day. Before she could respond, the remaining members of the Order who were staying at Headquarters stumbled into the room.

Ginny immediately made headway for the two of them and kissed her boyfriend good morning. Ron came around her other side and sat down, shooting her one concerned look before turning to the head of the table. The other Weasley siblings, (besides Percy, who had died in a battle the previous year) sat around the table. Molly and Arthur sat next to them. Seamus, Neville and Luna also took spots. Everyone else was either out on a mission or staying at one of the many safe houses they had set up.

Hermione let her eyes wander across their faces for a moment. Everyone seemed to be feeling the weight of the war. Her gaze was especially drawn to Seamus. He was trying so hard to stay blank, but the pain of Dean's death was rooted in every expression he made and every word he uttered. The two of them had been best friends for nearly a decade when Dean jumped in front of Seamus at the battle, effectively saving his friend's life by sacrificing his own.

Hermione and Seamus had grown exceptionally close over the past three years, and she saw the guilt the permeated his features. The day after the battle, she had been trying to coax him into eating something. "It wasn't your fault," she had whispered in the darkness of his room.

"Wasn't it?" had been his response.

She hadn't been able to say anything more before he had pulled her into his bed.

There wasn't anything between them. Nothing emotional, anyway. But the lure of physical intimacy in a world of death and destruction was too strong to resist.

They had been together, in the physical sense of the word, for just over a year and half. No one but Ginny and Dean had known. It wasn't something to be advertised. The need for the comfort of the skin was something that everyone had, but no one ever said anything about. Hermione didn't want to deal with the over-protectiveness of Harry and Ron. She never said anything about Ron's behaviour the nights that Lavender stayed at Headquarters.

Seamus offered her an escape. It was he who she had gone to after the botched attempt to rescue Ollivander from the cellars of Malfoy Manor. She was the one had nursed him back to health after being hit by a Sectumsempra curse at the Battle of Diagon Alley seven months prior.

They needed what the other could give. It was nothing more than that.

She let her eyes drift away from Seamus to Lupin, who was standing at the head of the table in preparation to debrief them.

"The Death Eaters have set their eyes on the old Zabini estate," he announced, looking over his audience for a moment. "After the death of Marcella Zabini last month, the entire fortune was left to her only son."

"Blaise," Harry said. "He was in our year at Hogwarts."

Was he? Hermione tried to remember. All that came to mind was an attractive, swarthy Slytherin with an Italian accent.

Lupin nodded. "That's the one. Now, rumour has it that Lady Zabini killed her seven husbands."

Ginny chuckled. "Classic."

Their old DADA professor rolled his eyes at the interruption. "After every death, there was a legal investigation at the Zabini household. Every time, there were numerous Dark objects discovered. However, the ministry had no authority to confiscate them. So they remain within the estate."

Neville nodded slowly. "So now that Marcella is dead…."

"The only thing between the Death Eaters and this jackpot is a nineteen year old boy," Lupin concluded. "Easy pickings."

"What does this have to do with the Order?" Fred asked. "I mean, I'm all for protecting the fortune of a psychotic serial wife, but do we not have more important things to attend to?"

"Blaise Zabini is not likely to make it through this altercation alive," Lupin declared.

"So?" Fred shrugged. "He's just a Slytherin."

"That kind of attitude has no place at this table," Hermione piped up. All eyes turned to her. She was usually fairly quiet during these meetings.

"Pardon?" Lupin asked. Everyone was looking at her with confusion.

She felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but continued talking. "Condemning someone to death based on where a hat placed them at age elven is nothing short of vile," she said quietly, looking at the mark on her arm. "Besides, the Zabinis are neutral. They are not evil. They are innocents, in fact. And if saving a human life isn't a good enough reason for you, Fred, then think about the consequences of the Death Eaters gaining control of those Dark objects."

There was a bout of silence that followed her proclamation. Fred had turned beet red, and was staring down at his lap in shame. Harry was giving her one of his rare, genuine smiles. Seamus had finally looked up from the kitchen table.

Lupin was beaming. "I could not have said it better myself, Hermione." He turned back to the general assembly. "We protect human life, regardless of schoolyard rivalry. And to boot, we cannot allow the Dark Lord to gain possession of such a large quantity of Dark objects and magic."

"So what are the logistics?" Bill piped in. For someone with a tooth earing and a ponytail, he always seemed to be the most concerned with the plan.

"We need ten of you," Lupin said. "The Death Eaters are going to come in a party of about six. Enough, in their opinion, to dispose of the Zabini boy and come out unscathed. We want them outnumbered. I do not want to see a single casualty from this mission."

The reminder of their last mission hung over the room like a storm cloud. Seamus's eyes once again returned to the table.

"So," Lupin said, looking around and ignoring the mounting tension. "Any volunteers, or am I going through the list?"

"I'll go," I said. All eyes snapped to me.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? After last night, wouldn't it be a good idea for you to rest…"

"What happened last night?" Molly asked, looking at Hermione with concern.

The Gryffindor rolled her eyes. "Just because I got claimed by the Greek God of Willow Trees does not mean I am unfit for duty."

"It's also your birthday," Ron reminded her. "Do you really want to spend your birthday prepping for what seems like an in and out mission?"

"Wars don't give you days off," she said. She turned back to Lupin. "I'm going."

He conceded.

In the end, it turned out to be Mad Eye, Padma, Sprout (who had already volunteered), Fred (out of guilt), Seamus, Bill, Neville, Arthur, Luna and Hermione. They spent the next few hours going over maps of the Zabini estate and possible routes the Death Eaters may take to get through the wards. After they had figured out strategy, it was mid-afternoon. They all breaked for a while before supper. Molly was making a feast for Hermione's birthday. Every member of the order was supposed to be there.

Hermione walked out of the kitchen and up the first set of stairs, intent on sleeping for a few hours before dinner. Before she even got off the first landing, a hand grabbed her a pulled her into one of the empty rooms.

Before she had a chance to shout, Seamus had spun her around and pushed her against the shut door. "What happened last night?" Seamus demanded. She eyed him warily. His moves were frantic, his eyes nearly crazed.

She had never seen him like this before.

"I got an unexpected birthmark," she said quickly, showing him the mark on her wrist. He reached down and grabbed her arm to examine it more closely.

"That's it?" he asked again.

Hermione nodded slowly.

His shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank Merlin," he muttered. "I didn't know what to think after what Lupin said."

"It's nothing," she said, trying to downplay it. "Well, it's something but we just don't know what it is."

"I just…" Seamus stuttered off. He looked up and met her eyes. The vulnerability in his shook her to her core.

"After Dean, you were worried about me," she finished for him. He gave a meek nod as a familiar flash of pain appeared on his face at any mention of his best friend.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You'd better not," he nearly growled, pushing her against the door again. "How much time do we have before dinner?"

"Two hours," she replied, suddenly feeling very breathless.

"Perfect," he muttered. "Promise me you'll make it back from the mission."

"Seamus, it's an easy in and out…"

"Promise me!" he cried, in desperation.

She stuttered out her answer. "I…I promise. I'll come back."

The man standing in front of her suddenly broke. "Please come back," he cried out, tears streaming down his face. Seamus collapsed to the ground. Hermione followed him down.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

"Please come back," her friend muttered over and over.

The sight of him shook her more than a willow tree ever could.

* * *

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	3. Retreats

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"You ready, Princess?"

The raid team was crouched at the edge of the forest on the border of the Zabini estate. About a week had passed since Lupin had briefed them about the mission. They had waited for his signal since then. This morning, he had stormed into Headquarters at half past nine and nodded.

The raiders followed protocol: five minutes to prepare for a pre-meditated raid. Hermione raced up to her room and pulled on her dark jeans, a dark tank, and a leather jacket. The others all wore robes, but she always chose to wear Muggle clothes to a mission unless the difference would attract attention.

She strapped her wand into the holster around her waist and tied her hair up into a high ponytail. "What do you think, Fred?"

Her friend was crouched on her right side. He was whispering, standard mission rules. On her other side was Seamus. He had his hand on the small of her back. She shivered under his touch, as she normally did. Something was different, this past week. He was more possessive. Angrier.

In a world of nothing but fear, she was surprised by how much he scared her.

Fred gave her a look, drawing her attention back to his freckly face. He sighed. "It's just, you haven't been on a mission since…well…."

"Since Oliver and Dean died?" she snapped. She felt Seamus hand tighten a hold on her. She took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably under the new pressure. "I don't suppose I have."

"You were right in the centre of that battle," Fred continued, looking at the ground. "You…you saw them die."

"I've seen a lot of people die," she reminded him. The nonchalance in her voice shook her to the very core. When had she started living in a world where seeing people die was normal? It was protocol. Everything was protocol now.

"Yes I know," Fred said, his voice quieter than ever. "But, you were so close to them."

She took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice steady. "This is a war, Fred. Sometimes you lose the people that you care about."

"But," he hesitated for a moment. Then he sighed. "I've been meaning to ask you this since the mission. Ron and Harry were also wondering, but didn't have the balls to do it. Were you…you and Oliver…involved?"

Her head snapped to look at Fred straight-on. She was trying desperately to ignore Seamus's breathing behind her.

"Why do you ask?" she demanded, trying to keep her heart-rate down.

"You were heartbroken after he died," Fred explained. "You locked yourself in your room and only left to go tend to Seamus's wounds. We have never seen you like that. Not when Vector was killed last year, or Terry, or even Parvarti."

Hermione wiped a stray tendril behind her ear. "If I told you I had never been with Oliver, I'd be lying," she whispered. A memory of a night a few days after the Battle of Yaxley Manor flashed through her mind, all heat and passion. She took a deep breath. "But I wasn't with him. Not more than once or twice, at least. But we were good friends. I wasn't upset because I had lost a boyfriend, Fred. I was upset because I had lost a friend. A very good friend. I watched him grow up. He taught me how to stay on a broom for more than five seconds. And in an instant, all of that gone. His smile, frozen in my memory for all of eternity. How do you bounce back from the death of someone who was part of your life? I'm trying, Fred. Tell Harry and Ron that too. I'm doing what I can. We all are." She managed a weak smile than faded after a mere second of existence.

Fred reached up and rubbed her arm comfortingly. "We'll bounce. We always do."

"At least we try."

"Mark!" came a sudden shouted whisper. Hermione looked past Fred to see MadEye stand up. He was leaning on his wooden leg for support, while his magical eye moved quickly, seeing something the rest of them couldn't.

He made a quick signal to start their advance. "The wards have fallen," their general said, voice strong. "They're approaching from the other side."

The team rose from their crouching positions. Hermione felt a wave of coldness flash through her. Padma had gotten the Dillusionment charms done, at least. The Order moved out of the forest line and began their descent on the Manor.

Hermione's heart pounded as they crossed the estate. They were trying desperately not to make a sound. Accustomed to this level of silence, she was able to hear any sound out of place. It took her several moments before she was able to pinpoint the footsteps of the Death Eaters on the other side of the large house.

They reached the back wall without difficulty. Hermione took a step back and cast a vanishing spell on all the back windows. This was her part of the mission. As soon as the glass had disappeared, the other members of her team began to push and hoist each other through the now empty holes. She was last to go in. Seamus pulled her through the window like she weighed little more than a feather.

The moment they were in, they took account of their surroundings. Lupin had debriefed them on the layout of the Zabini Manor. They had entered through the library. She turned and saw the door on the right side, exactly where their werewolf had said it would be.

She began the advance, gesturing at everyone to fall in behind her. They did without question. She felt a touch on her hip and knew that Seamus was right behind her.

She reached forward and grasped the doorknob. She spun in slowly, and peaked into the empty hallway.

"All clear," she mouthed at her team. She caught Alastor's eye. He looked up through the ceiling of the library, magical eye darting around for a moment.

"First door on the left," he whispered. She nodded in response.

Fred and Seamus were in charge of getting Blaise. Hermione was to protect the stairwell with Bill, Neville and Arthur. The others were to intercept the Death Eaters on their attempt to get the items.

The team snuck through the door.

Hermione turned left with her portion of the group. They made their way slowly down the hallway. At the end, they found what must be the servant's staircase. Seamus and Fred pushed past her and leapt up the steps. Hermione turned back on the hallway they had just traversed, wand raised.

For a moment, she thought the raid was going to go fine. In, out. Nothing special. Nothing hard.

Then she saw the door at the end of the corridor blast open, and she knew she was wrong.

From above, she heard scuffling. _Blaise must be putting up a fight_ , she mused. However, her thoughts were pre-occupied with the three masked figures who had just entered the hallway.

"Code Black!" she shouted. Immediately, her cohorts fell into a defensive positions. Above her, she heard a thud. The death eaters turned on them immediately.

She sent a stunning jinx at them, which the one at the front deflected easily. She ducked narrowly to avoid a curse. The close quarters filled with flashed and spells.

They were too close to fight properly. They would all end up dead in this situation. Hermione looked around for a solution. Without a second thought, she pointed her want at the wall of the hallway.

"Reducto!" She shouted. The wall crumbled into dust. She gestured frantically at her team. "Go, better playing field!"

Bill was the first to jump over the broken stones and into the next room. The shortest death eater kept his spells focused on the eldest Weasley child. Hermione was watching Arthur and Neville move to the bigger space when she was suddenly grabbed from behind.

One hand wrapped around her waist and the other across her mouth.

"Who could this one be?" a menacing voice hissed in her ear. The dillusionment charm must still be up, she thought with relief. A second later, she felt the tingle and knew that her disguise was mute.

Motherfucker.

Her attacker had her wand armed trapped at her side. She couldn't do anything; barely point her wand in the right direction unless she got her arm free.

She started to lift her left arm to hit at her attacker, but before she could make contact, he had lifted his hand from her mouth to catch her wrist.

She screamed. The attacker had grabbed right where the willow had burned into her skin. The mark exploded under his touch. She almost blacked out.

"Seems like I hit a nerve, didn't I, mudblood?" She was in so much pain that she hardly realized he knew who she was.

He felt her rip open her sleeve in an attempt to see what he had hit.

Suddenly, the hands around her fell away. She jumped forward and turned on the Death Eater, arm raised and panting. She was still seeing stars from the pain.

Her attacker stood in front of her, with his arms at his side. He was shaking his head, backing up slowly. "No, it couldn't be….they were dead, they all died…"

There was something vaguely familiar about the piercing grey eyes under the mask. Those eyes were wide now, filled with shock.

"Retreat," the man whispered. Hermione nearly dropped her arms in surprise. He turned to his companions. "Retreat!" he shouted. He seemed to hold some sort of authority over the rest of them. The others fell back without hesitation. The Order was too shocked to do anything as the death eaters all disapparated in front of them.

Hermione lowered her wand slowly, eyes darting around, trying to see if it was a trick. The others came barrelling through what was left of the door at the end of the corridor. MadEye was at the front.

"They're gone!" he shouted, magical eye looking everywhere in the house. "All of them. They just retreated."

She heard noises behind her. She turned to see Seamus and Fred carry an unconscious Blaise Zabini down the final steps of the staircase. He had a bruise on his cheek and looked thoroughly knocked out.

The others were re-grouping around where Hermione was standing. Her eyes shifted to where her attacker had stood moments before.

He had seen the mark on her arm.

"Get back to headquarters," Alastor said. "Bill, Arthur, stay with me and destroy those artifacts. The rest of you, fill Lupin in. Get the kid some water and fix up his face." None of them moved.

"For fuck's sake, they could be back any moment with reinforcements. Go!"

Hermione was still frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened. She felt Seamus grab her arm.

"Come on Hermione," he muttered. Her eyes were stuck on the empty space even as she apparated away.

* * *

"They just retreated? No reason?"

They had just arrived back at Headquarters. Lupin, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Molly were all standing in the kitchen, listening to their tale from the raid.

Padma nodded. "We were fighting three of them, trying to prevent them getting the objects. Someone shouted RETREAT from the other room and they all disapparated. Just like that."

"Were they losing?" Lupin asked, the confusion evident.

Neville shook his head. "It was fairly even. We actually would've been wiped out, but Hermione knocked down a wall. We had been fighting in close quarters, but she opened up another room which evened the playing field."

"Then who called retreat?" Harry asked, leaning on the table. He took off his glasses and rubbed them absentmindedly on his sleeve. He only ever did that when he was trying to solve a problem.

Before anyone could answer, Fred and Seamus entered the kitchen.

"The Slytherin is tied up in the spare bedroom on the third floor," Seamus announced. "He should be out for another hour or so. After that, we can try explaining to him what happened."

"How'd you get him?" Molly asked, her eyes darting over Fred nervously, checking for any signs of injury.

"We knocked him out," Fred chuckled. "The guy was sitting in his room reading a book when we stormed in. He obviously had no idea anyone was after him or his property. He fought for a while, but we over-powered him."

Lupin nodded. "We'll talk to Mr. Zabini when the time comes. But first, we really must understand what happened here. Harry's question still stands. Who called the retreat?"

"It was the death eater fighting Hermione," Neville admitted. He looked at her sheepishly. "I didn't see much of their battle though."

"Hermione?" Lupin asked, surprised. "What happened?"

Since they had arrived, she had been sitting at the kitchen table, staring off into space and trying to comprehend what had happened. At Lupin's question, her eyes snapped back to reality and she was forced to turn to her comrades.

"We were fighting," she said quietly. "Well, actually, after I had blown the hole in the wall, I was distracted and he grabbed me."

"What?!" Seamus cried, fear and anxiety creeping into his voice. Everyone looked at him for a moment, strangely.

"It's not that bad," she said, trying to draw attention back to herself. "One hand on my mouth so I couldn't scream, and one hand around my waist, trapping my wand hand."

"That's not that bad?" Ron said in a similar manner to Seamus.

"We've all been man-handled," she defended herself.

"This was an in and out mission," Lupin said. "You shouldn't have even been in a position to have been grabbed."

She rubbed the crease between her eyes. "I'm sorry, alright? I fucked up."

"Fucked up?" Harry said. The worry and anger in his voice was palpable. "You could've been killed!"

"But I wasn't!" She cried, finally standing up. "You can all stand there and bitch me out for being distracted for one fucking second. But remember that I was distracted while saving everyone's ass. If I hadn't knocked down that wall, the close quarter battle would've killed us. You can't dodge an Unforgivable in a space like that. I did what I had to, and I faced the consequences. I'm not stupid and I'm not dead so stop treating me like I'm both."

There was a short silence after her monologue. Lupin was the first to concede.

"You're right, Hermione," he sighed. "We should not be jumping down your throat. We're just worried about you."

"And I appreciate it," she replied. "But I'm not a child."

"We know," her old teacher said. He gave a weak smile. "Sometimes I still think you all are. You'll always be that brilliant thirteen year old girl who discovered I was a werewolf, at least a little bit."

Hermione returned his attempt at smiling. She refused to look at Harry, Ron or Seamus. Instead, she focused her eyes on Lupin and asked, "Do you want to hear the rest of the story?"

Everyone nodded.

She sat back down. "So he grabbed me. I couldn't use my wand because it was trapped. My only way out was to try and make him release that arm. I tried to hit him with my free arm, but he let go of my mouth and grabbed my wrist. But he grabbed the mark."

She lifted up her left arm and showed the rip the Death Eater had made in her jacket. Below it, the willow tree was bright red against her skin. She winced at the sight.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "It looks inflamed."

"It probably is," she answered. "He grabbed the mark and it burned me. Not even that, it exploded. I felt like I'd been hit with the Cruciatus. I cried out and the death eater realized he had hit something. He ripped open my sleeve, saw the mark, and let me go. Then he called the retreat."

The room became silent. Lupin was blinking rapidly at her confession, his mouth hanging open slightly.

They heard a crack from the next room and MadEye, Bill and Arthur walked into the kitchen. Hardly noticing the tension, the auror reached for his hipflask and took a swing.

"We destroyed everything," he said. "Basically burned the bloody manor to the ground. They won't be coming back again."

From behind him, Arthur walked forward, eyeing everyone. "What did we miss?"

"They retreated?" Lupin asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "They left a house full of Order members and dark objects. They could've probably killed a few and gotten some of the items, but they left because of the mark on your arm?"

Hermione nodded.

"Did he say anything else?" Molly asked, her face white.

Hermione thought back for a moment. "Umm…something about death. They were all dead. They had all died. That's what he said."

The silence that followed her statement was even more choking than the previous.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Harry whispered. "What the hell is that thing?"

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Fred asked.

They were standing in front of the spare room on the third floor. On the other side of the door, Blaise Zabini was howling.

Hermione nodded. "I can't be in that kitchen for another goddamn minute."

For the past hour and a half, the Order had been focused on nothing but the mark on her arm. They had started pooling resources, trying to find a trace of it in books. Lupin asked her continuously about the attack. She repeated her story as more members arrived. And all the while, Seamus, Ron and Harry stood protectively behind her chair.

She felt suffocated. She couldn't handle being the centre of attention, especially in what may be a life or death situation.

Fred sighed. "Yeah. Who would've thought that your tree tattoo might actually be mildly interesting?"

"Not me," she admitted. "After that first day, I thought the Gods had just wanted to give me a tattoo."

He pointed at her arm. "Do you mind if…"

She sighed and raised it. "Everyone else has. Just don't touch it."

He took her arm gingerly and examined the willow tree that had darkened even more in the past hour. It was now almost maroon.

"I mean, it just looks like a birthmark." Fred looked up at her. "Maybe it just means you were raised by trees."

"I don't remember photosynthesizing to live."

"Photowhatzisting?"

She rolled her eyes. "Muggle science. Unimportant." She glanced back at the mark. "I don't even mind everyone trying to understand it. I'm just a puzzle that needs to be solved. If it has something to do with the war, it's important. But what I can't stand is everyone treating me like I'm breakable."

"Your trio of watchdogs leaves something to be desired."

She groaned. "I'm so glad they all have watch duty right now. I couldn't handle feeling that…fragile."

"You are anything but fragile," Fred said. He raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of your bodyguards, are you screwing Finnigan?"

She started. "Pardon?" The guilt in her voice gave her away immediately.

Fred chuckled. "Come on, Hermione. Even before he went super-protector boyfriend today, the way he watches you is indecent. Really. Get a room."

Hermione winced. "I thought no one knew."

"And by that you mean Ron and Harry, who are frankly as dense as bricks."

She sighed. "Do you care?"

Fred shook his head. "No. Why would I? Or why would anyone for that matter. This war is sucking out all the humanity in life. If sleeping with the Irish lets you feel like a human being for I'm guessing two and a half minutes at a time, then Godspeed, my child."

She slapped his arm.

He pouted. "Ouch. But honestly, Hermione. No one will be angry with you for trying to feel human. We are all trying, every day, to even have a second of life in our lives. What did I say earlier? When the world gets hard, we bounce. You, apparently more than others."

She slapped him again.

"Okay," he said, hands in the air. He surveyed her for a moment. "Do you love him?"

She shook her head. "He's a good friend, and I care about him, but that's it. I don't think I could ever fall in love during a war."

"That's where I think you're wrong, Hermione," Fred said. "It's surprisingly easy to fall in love during war. Knowing you could die at any moment causes people to take the risks they would usually avoid. It also makes you realize how easy it is to lose people, and by default, who you couldn't stand losing. If you aren't in love with Seamus, it's not because you couldn't fall in love during a battle. It's because you aren't in love with him."

Hermione appraised him for a moment. "Has anyone ever told you you're very intelligent?"

"Quite often in fact," he responded. "But to hear it from Hermione Granger herself, I don't think I've known a greater honour."

Suddenly, another scream sounded from behind the closed door.

Fred gestured to it. "You'd better go talk to the big, bad Slytherin. He sounds like he's being attacked by banshees."

She rolled her eyes and stepped forward. She opened the door to the room and slipped in before turning to face Blaise Zabini.

He was sitting upright in a small cot, all of his limbs bound together by rope. His face was still bruised, but she hardly noticed because of the sweat pouring down his face. He was still screaming when she walked in. However, the second he saw her face, his voice fell.

"Granger?" he blinked, after a moment of silence. "Hermione Granger?"

She grimaced. "Hello, Blaise Zabini."

"What…what's going on?"

She conjured a chair and pulled it up to where he was sitting. "I know that right now, you're confused and angry, but I need you to listen to me."

He narrowed his eyes. "Your people broke into my home, knocked me unconscious, dragged me here and tied me up, and I should actually listen to you?"

"Yes," she replied promptly. "Because I have the answers that you need, and more importantly, the authority to untie you."

He paused.

"Then speak, Gryffindor."

She did. She told him about the items that his mother had collected over the years, and the Death Eaters interest in them. She explained how they knew about the raid and had deployed a team to his home to protect his life and prevent the acquisition of the Dark Objects. Finally, she informed him about the destruction of his home in the process.

He blinked several times after her story.

"So you all saved my life?"

She nodded. "That we did."

"And you destroyed my house."

"That we did."

He surveyed her for a moment. "I can't decide to kiss you or punch you, Granger."

She shrugged. "We did what we had to. You are lucky to be alive."

He paused. "I am grateful. I'm just…I'm confused. I'm a neutral. Why the fuck would you guys care if I get killed?"

She recoiled as if slapped. "Because you are a human being and deserve to live. We do not condone death. That is not who we are."

He gave her a look. "Really? You didn't just interfere because of the objects."

"We did in part, but do not doubt that preventing your murder was one of our main objectives." She took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eye. "You were going to be killed, and in good conscience, we could not allow that to happen. We don't care if you're a Slytherin, or a pureblood, or a neutral. Before any of that, you are a human being. That is how you deserve to be treated, and that is how we treated you in this case. You're welcome, but don't be grateful for something that should be a right and not a privilege. You have the right to live."

He was silent for a moment. "I...I'm not sure how to be neutral after a speech like that."

Hermione smiled at him.

"Well then, Blaise Zabini, welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."

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	4. Retreivers

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

The world was dark that evening. In reality, the world had been dark for the past three years. However, as Draco Malfoy stood at the window of his bedroom at Malfoy Manor, he noticed that the stars were gone.

There were no clouds. The sky was as clear as a bright summer's day. However, no dots of light broke through the vast and dense blackness that assaulted his world. A crescent moon hung in the sky. Even it seemed grey.

Draco pursed his lips and raised a glass of firewhiskey to his mouth. Had something happened? Had another battle occurred? Or had the night sky finally decided that that it could not condone the horrors of the earth?

Probably the last one.

Three years. It had been just over three years since he had stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower, his wand arm shaking as he pointed it at Albus Dumbledore. He flinched at the memory. He tried his best to avoid remembering any part of sixth year.

Circumstances made that feat undeniably hard.

Draco heard a burst of sound from below. He couldn't fully identify what it had been, but the mark burned into his left arm was tingling.

The Dark Lord was feeling powerful, indeed.

Malfoy Manor had become the Headquarters of the Death Eaters and their leader. Neither he, nor his mother or father had been particularly pleased with this, but what choice did they have in the face of Draco's failure on top of the Astronomy Tower? It was the most they could do to abate the Dark Lord's anger.

It had hardly been abated at all.

He heard another roar from beneath him and flinched again. It had been an hour and a half since his father had stormed in and, without explanation, summoned his master with a touch of his arm.

Draco had been standing in the Drawing Room at the time, in the company of his mother. The rest of their side did not stay the night at the Manor, for which the old Slytherin was eternally grateful. However, it meant that only the Malfoys were witness to the whirling tornado that resulted in billowing dark robes, pale white skin, and snake like eyes that threatened to bite anyone who crossed its path.

The Dark Lord had looked around the room slowly, eyes drifting across the faces of his entire family. Draco had hardly realized he had stepped in front of his mother in a protective stance. Lucius stood defiantly, chin up and panting.

"Is there any particular reason," the Dark Lord said slowly, with a level of venom that caused the hairs on the back of Draco's neck to stand up on end. "That you have summoned me here this evening, Lucius? You have just returned from the Zabini mission, I assume. I cannot fathom why some dark objects would cause you to call upon me."

Lucius took several deep breaths. "My lord," he began. "We had just entered the Zabini Manor when we were intercepted by members of the Order of the Phoneix."

The snake like eyes narrowed. "They are becoming more cunning."

"I called a retreat," Lucius exclaimed. He had gone pale.

The Dark Lord tilted his head. After a pause, he spoke again, his voice like nails on a chalkboard.

"And is there any reason you chose to do this?" The words burned through the air.

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius said. "I called a retreat after an encounter with one of their younger female combatants. My Lord, she had the mark of Morganna on her wrist."

The Dark Lord froze. A moment later, Draco and his mother were thrown from the room. An hour and a half later, the youngest Malfoy was left alone, staring out the window of his bedroom and wondering what had happened.

In all his years of study, he had never heard of the Mark of Morganna. But the mere mention of it had sent the Dark Lord into a tailspin, slamming doors, locking and silencing the room, and remaining in there with his father for the better part of the night.

Draco downed the rest of his firewhiskey and set the glass on his windowsill. He hadn't been on the mission tonight. It had been to the Zabini household to acquire the Dark Objects that Lady Zabini had left behind after her death.

The only thing standing in their way was the only son of the Wizarding World's most notorious female serial killer; his once best friend, Blaise Zabini.

The death sentence had not been explicit in their Lord's orders. However, the threat of death underlined anything Voldemort ever demanded from his followers. The Dark Lord tried to spare those with pure blood, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

They had not seen each other in three years, but Draco could not bear to take a part in the possible death of Blaise Zabini.

He hardly could bear taking part of anyone's death.

Besides the mystery of his father's abrupt announcement, Draco had been secretly excited the mission had failed. Blaise was undoubtedly under the protection of the Order now. That was both his saving grace and his execution order. However for now, he was safe. Hopefully in a warm bed somewhere, being fed and not being killed.

It was quite a shame that Blaise and his mother had chosen neutrality in the war. With his pure blood, he could have gained power and prestige in the New World Order.

Draco sighed. If they ever won the goddamn war.

Three years. In that time he had grown from an over-excited teenage boy, who grinned at the idea of becoming King, to a man, who wanted nothing more than to never have to torture another human being in the course of his life.

Draco ran his hand through his hair. He was fucked both ways in this war, without a doubt. If the Order won, he would be tried as a Death Eater, convicted, and sent to spend the rest of his life rotting in Azkaban.

If the Dark Lord won, he would have to spend the rest of his life concealing his thoughts through Occlumency and trying to avoid killing people he had gone to class with.

A memory from a battle about a month back flashed through his mind. He raised his arm, said the words, and the body of that damn Gryffindor from his year fell to the ground at his feet.

The act had not made him feel powerful. It had just made him tired.

It had only been his fourth kill, all of which had been self-defence. He tried to stun more often than kill. However, that knowledge couldn't abate the stains on what was left of his conscience.

A knock on the door shook him from his reverie. He turned to see his mother standing blankly, watching him.

"He requests our presence," she murmured, exiting the room as quietly as she had come.

His mother had once been a strong woman. She was a pureblooded jewel. But this war had destroyed her, as it had them all. Now she was nothing but a shell of a person desperately trying to stop the rest of her from crumbling away.

Draco forced his feet forward and followed her out of the room. A moment later, they had arrived at the now open door of the Drawing Room. They entered without hesitation.

The Dark Lord stood at the far end of the room with Lucius on his right-hand side. His so-called master surveyed him with his eyes narrowed into even smaller slits.

"Draco Malfoy," he said.

He bowed his head respectfully. "My Lord."

"It seems the opportunity has come for you to finally redeem yourself," the snake said. Draco's ear perked up at the comment.

"Pardon, my lord?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice even.

The Dark Lord began to pace in front of him, his robes billowing out behind him like clouds of black dust. After a moment, he paused, and turned back to his younger follower.

"You have proved to be a valuable asset to me over the years," he said, looking at Draco. "Which is fortunate after the – ah – mishap at the Astronomy Tower all those years ago."

Draco let his eyes fall to the floor, forcing his mind to stay in the present.

"But that is the past, young one," Voldemort said, flourishing his wand. "And the Dark Lord is nothing if not merciful."

"Thank you, my Lord," he muttered.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said. "What do you know of one Hermione Granger?"

Draco's eyes snapped up at the mention of the Gryffindor Princess of Hogwarts. He paused for a moment, confused at the turn of conversation, before answering. "She is a girl who was in my year at school. Gryffindor. Extremely powerful and talented, for a mudblood," he hastened. "She's Harry Potter's best friend."

Hermione Granger. That was not a name he had heard or thought in years. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen her. Sometime at the end of sixth year, he supposed, before he fled from Hogwarts.

Why would the Dark Lord care so much about Hermione Granger?

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully at Draco's answer. "What was your relationship with her?"

Draco's eyebrows raised to his hairline. "We had no type of relationship, my Lord. She was nothing but a mudblood, and affiliated with Potter. We spoke no more than trading insults."

"You are going to have to work on that then."

"Excuse me, my Lord," Draco asked, more confused as every second passed. "I don't think I understand."

The Dark Lord conjured up a large wooden chair and sat down in it. His red eyes flicked back to Draco's. "It seems that we all have been very wrong about Miss Granger. She is not who we thought."

"Who is she then?" Draco asked.

There was a pause as the Dark Lord considered his answer. "Someone of great importance," he answered, after a moment of thought. "Tell me, have you ever heard of the Mark of Morganna?"

Draco shook his head.

"The Mark of Morganna is a willow tree," the Dark Lord stated. "It is the mark of Morganna le Fay, the enchantress."

The name rang a bell at the back of Draco's mind. He sifted through his old memories of History of Magic class. "You mean…the enchantress who opposed Merlin, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord nodded. "Exactly. She is one of the most powerful magical beings of Wizarding History. She came five hundred years before the founders of Hogwarts and had the power of all of them combined. Besides that, she was a witch in the purest sense. Her blood was created of nothing but magic."

"And the willow is her mark?"

The Dark Lord nodded again. His eyes shifted to Lucius. "Earlier this day, your father battled a young Order combatant. She had the Mark of Morganna upon her left wrist."

"Which signifies what, my Lord?"

If Voldemort could smile, Draco was sure he was doing it now. "It signifies the bearer's relation to the enchantress. Morganna le Fay and her descendants only had daughters. One in each generation for the past fifteen hundred years. And every one of those witches had the Mark on their wrist."

Draco's eyes flitted to his father. "So he fought a descendent of Morganna le Fay?"

"Not just a descendent," the Dark Lord said, leaning forward as if in anticipation. "The only descendent remaining. The only remaining witch who has a direct ancestral link to the Enchantress."

"Who was it, then?" Draco asked. He could hardly understand what he was hearing. The Great Enchantress, as she was sometimes known, had a child? Who had a child, and somewhere down the line, was a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Voldemort smirked, sending shivers up and down Draco's spine.

"I would've thought that obvious by now. Your father was fighting Miss Hermione Granger."

If Draco had not been in front of the most powerful wizard on earth, he would've laughed. "That's simply not possible."

"Really?' the Dark Lord asked, leaning back. "Why not?"

"Because Hermione Granger is a mudblood!" Draco exclaimed. "Her parents are muggles. There is no way she has witch in her blood, let alone the most powerful witch in history in her blood."

"You are wrong about a great many things," the Dark Lord said slowly. "Firstly, and most importantly, it is not Hermione Granger. It is Hermione le Fay."

The pause that followed his statement was deafening.

"The last known descendent of Morganna was named Celia," Voldemort continued. "She was a powerful witch. She married a man by the name of Tiberius Nott. Does that name hold any significance to you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "That's Theo's uncle, isn't it? Didn't he die in the First Wizarding War?"

"Correct," the Dark Lord stated. "Most people assumed that his wife, Celia, had died with him, as well as their three month old daughter, Hermione."

Draco hadn't realized he was shaking.

"However, the discovery of your father has led me to believe that Celia did in fact escape with her daughter and hide herself in the muggle world. Then, when the young girl came of age, sent her to Hogwarts under the guise of being a mudblood."

Voldemort rose. "It is almost offensive to think of," he hissed. "A witch of the purest blood, having to live as nothing but a mudblood. If I had the power to traverse time, I would go back and reverse this terrible crime that was committed against Miss le Fay. She is nothing short of wizarding royalty, and should be treated as such."

Draco was stuttering. "Are you telling me…that this entire time…Hermione Granger has been a pureblood?"

"Not just a pureblood," Voldemort said. "A pureblood princess. I doubt a single speck of non-magical blood flows through her veins. The le Fays always married wizards. They were too powerful to procreate with muggles. And their line survived."

The Slytherin stood routed to the spot, unable to understand what he was hearing. Hermione Granger, the meddlesome witch he had teased mercilessly for years, had turned out to be pureblood?

No, a voice hissed. Royalty.

His worldview seemed to crumble around him.

"No wonder she's so powerful," Draco whispered. "No mudblood could ever be so naturally gifted with magic."

Voldemort nodded. "A mudblood would pale in comparison to the Princess."

Draco couldn't prevent a smirk. "The Princess? Is that what we're calling her?"

The Dark Lord's eyes blazed with such venom that Draco flinched back.

"That is what she is."

There was silence.

"Wait a moment," Draco muttered after a moment, after a realization came to him. "I must've seen Grang…Hermione's arm a thousand times over the years. I never noticed a willow tree birthmark."

"The Mark of Morganna only appears on the bearer's arm at the age of twenty. Unless I am mistaken, the Princess must have just received it."

"Why does it do that?" Draco asked.

The Dark Lord sat back down in his chair. "It signifies that the new Generation has become a Protector. The mark on her mother would have faded as her role was handed to her daughter."

"Protector of what?"

The Dark Lord hesitated for only the briefest second. If Draco had blinked he would've missed it.

"Protector of the family line," he answered smoothly.

There was silence as Draco considered everything he had just learned. "My Lord," he began, still confused as to one aspect. "What does this have to do with me?"

The Dark Lord tilted his head. "I have just learned that the most powerful pureblood line in history survives and a Princess lives among us. I want you to return her to us."

"Pardon, what?"

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at his question. "I want you to retrieve her. You are tasked with returning Hermione le Fay to her equals and those who revere her. You shall collect the Princess, Draco Malfoy, and bring her back where she belongs."

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	5. Emeralds

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* * *

Draco froze after the Dark Lord's proclamation. "My Lord, I'm not sure…"

His snake eyes narrowed. "Are you refusing to do my bidding?"

The Slytherin Prince began backtracking immediately. "No, not at all…"

"Because, Mr. Malfoy, your family has been walking on very thin ice these past few years. I would hate to see what would happen to your parents if you were to not accomplish this very simple task."

Draco paused as his eyes drifted to his parents. Both were looking at him with wide eyes, desperately begging him to concede. Lucius was, at least. Narcissa was guarded. She wore the same blank look she had for years. However, it seemed to be hiding something for the first time in ages.

"I…I will follow your orders m'lord," Draco murmured, casting his eyes from his parents. He had already felt the fear and guilt of holding their fate in his hand. He would not fail them again.

Voldemort smirked. "Well chosen."

Draco took a deep breath. Collect Hermione Grang…Le Fay from the Order and bring her to the Dark Lord. How hard could it be, he thought weakly.

His master rose from him mahogany throne. "A note, Draco."

He straightened. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Do not inform Miss Le Fay of her new found parentage."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not, my Lord? Wouldn't you want her to know her status, to correct the wrong done upon her by raising her as a muggle?"

"If she knows, the Order knows," he said, taking a step forward. "The last thing I want the Order to know is how powerful a weapon they have in their midst."

"A weapon?" Draco asked. "How is she a weapon?"

"She is a Le Fay," he answered, voice quiet. "That holds more power in the world than you will see in your miserable lifetime. The magic that runs through her veins changes everything. No, they cannot know what they possess until we have taken her back."

The tone with which he was talking about her sent shivers up his spine. Without conscious thought, he changed his stance ever so slightly, as if preparing for battle. It was protective. Protective of the girl he had mercilessly teased for his entire childhood.

If Voldemort noticed the shift, he did not comment on it. "You must infiltrate the Order to complete this task. The only way to bring the Princess back is to gain her trust. _You_ will not handle a Le Fay with force."

"The Order will never believe I'm a turncoat," Draco said, thinking about the reaction he'd get showing up on their doorstep. "They'll kill me before I even get in the same room as her."

An evil glint flitted through his eyes. "Not if we give them a reason to doubt." He looked over and Lucius and flicked his fingers at Draco.

His father took a few steps forward and raised his wand. Draco barely had time to blink before he was knocked unconscious.

* * *

"Wake up, love," a voice whispered by her ear.

She blinked her way back into consciousness. Curled up like a kitten under a blanket, she looked up to meet Harry's face.

"What time is it?" she asked, looking around hers and Ginny's bedroom blindly, as if hoping the walls themselves would give her the answer she was looking for.

"About seven," Harry answered. "Molly's serving dinner and asked me to come check on you."

Hermione sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"Since you talked to Zabini," he said. "You left his room and came straight up here. You were passed out by the time I came to check on you."

"I was exhausted," she admitted, blinking at her best friend. "It was a long day."

Harry tilted his head, eyes searching her face for a clue of how she was feeling. Eventually, his eyes dropped to the mark on her arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked, taking her wrist softly in his hands. "After what happened this morning."

She hesitated for a moment. "I'm not not alright? I guess. I don't know." She glared at the willow tree. "I just wish I knew what it was. I can't stand not knowing."

Harry smirked, his tired eyes dancing for a moment. "The Great Hermione Granger not knowing something? It's a national travesty."

She swatted him and then sighed. "I don't understand why they retreated. It's just a fucking tattoo."

Harry pursed his lips. "Marks on arms aren't nothing, you know that."

A silence filled the room.

Hermione bit her lip. "I didn't ask for this."

Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and stood her up. "I know. Don't worry. We'll figure out what it is."

As they walked out the door and downstairs, Hermione eyed him. "Don't you think we have more important things to find?"

Harry shot her a warning glance as they were approaching the kitchen. "I think this is a discussion to be had later."

Hermione sighed. He had been dodging talking about Horcruxes for a while now. It had been nearly a year since they had found the last one. They were hardly even actively looking anymore. They were too focused on the attacks and raids.

But they could end it all if they only found the remaining ones.

They entered the kitchen. Everyone was sitting around the table, subdued for once. At their entrance, all eyes turned to her. She noticed that Blaise Zabini was sitting on the right side. She made a beeline straight for him. At her choice of place, she saw Seamus visibly tense.

She took her seat quietly, trying to avoid the gazes burning into her skin.

"You alright, Granger?" Zabini asked under his breath.

"Why are you down here?" she shot back.

"Your Werewolf Leader came and questioned me after you did. Determined that I was a non-combatant who was leaning to this side. Apparently that means I'm safe enough to eat with."

She nodded her understanding. Around her, the table remained tense. Trying to ignore it, she reached forward and grabbed a chicken leg and roll. Nibbling on it, she allowed her eyes to drift around the table for the first time.

Everyone's eyes were on her. Lupin was at the end of the table, eyes focused in concentration. His lips were pursed in thought. He had the same look she had when she was trying to figure something out. She could nearly see his brain whirling around, trying to solve the problem in front of him.

She was the problem.

After a few more moments, Fred broke the silence. "At least we know what to do in battles from now on. Show them Hermione's arm, and they'll back off, no questions asked."

His joke broke the tension a bit. Hermione managed a weak smile in his direction.

Lupin frowned. "It seems unrealistic that her mark would scare all death eaters. Something of that magnitude we would've heard about before now."

Tonks was at his side, with her hand on his arm. "It must've held significance to that Death Eater and that one alone."

"Must be significant for them to call off the entire raid," Ron said, stuffing his mouth with a chicken wing."

Ginny shot him a look. "Close your mouth, Ronald."

Hermione sighed. "Can we not talk about this now?"

Arthur, who was sitting across from her, shook his head. "This is something we must understand, Hermione."

"The world has not stopped spinning because the Sacred God of Willow Trees decided to bless me," Hermione snapped, her eyes flashing. She looked at everyone. "There is still a war going on. People are getting killed at all moments. We cannot focus on me. There are much more important things."

"You're important," Seamus said quietly. Hermione sighed at his statement, while Fred winked at her.

Lupin cut in. "It's more than just you, Hermione. If whatever that thing in holds enough weight to cause a Death Eater to call retreat, it might be something we can use."

There was a pause.

"I'm not something to be used," Hermione replied, coolly.

"You're a soldier," Lupin said, slightly irritated. "As a fighter for the light, it is your duty to use whatever powers you possess to advance us in this war."

"What if it's something that hurts me?" Hermione demanded. "So far this mark has done nothing but set me on fire. It feels like the Cruciatus."

"You might just not know how to use it," he shot back. "Maybe you can teach yourself to withstand the pain for the sake of the greater good."

Without realizing it, Hermione began to stand up. "Don't you dare tell me to stomach the Cruciatus for your experimentation."

Lupin slammed his mug on the table as he stood. "We could use you as a weapon!"

"I'm not a weapon!" She nearly screamed. "I'm a human being who will not be poked and prodded at!"

"We're in a war!" he shouted. A second later, he took a step in her direction, causing Hermione's heart to skip a beat.

Suddenly, a wave of pain rushed through her arm, crippling her. She screamed out in agony as her vision blurred. As stars danced in her vision, a voice pounded through her head.

 _Bring her back where she belongs_.

She reached forward, trying to grab the table for support, but couldn't find it. Arms wrapped around her from behind and she thrashed. The pain in her arm was spreading from her wrist, through her torso, up her neck, into her head. Just as the burn reached a crescendo, it ended just as suddenly as it had come.

Hermione came down from the pain slowly, eyes blinking back to consciousness. Tears were blurring her vision. The rest of the table was standing, everyone eyeing her with worry, and some of them with fear.

She realized the arms wrapped around her were Harry's. She leaned back into him, knowing he'd stop her shaking legs from collapsing on her.

"Hermione," he whispered in her ear.

She sighed, and turned her gaze to Lupin, who was standing rooted to the spot where she had last seen him.

"Don't make me do this," she whispered, tears sliding down her face.

He was white as a sheet. All the blood had drained from his face. "Merlin, Hermione," he whispered. "I hadn't realized."

She was still shaking. Harry gripped her tighter. She turned her head to thank him, but the look on his face stopped her from speaking.

"Mione," he whispered. "Your eyes are green."

"What?" she cried.

He nodded. His face had gone white. "Emerald green."

She shut her eyes, trying to dispel the madness. Upon opening them, Harry shook his head.

"What is happening to me?" she whispered, her voice carrying in the deathly silent kitchen. She pushed herself away from Harry, and stood without support for a moment. She still felt shaky.

"Maybe you should just go to bed," Ron suggested, his eyes full of concern.

"I just got up," she answered, looking around for inspiration. She felt hollow, like all the strength had been zapped from her. She glanced down at the mark on her wrist.

It had turned black.

She gasped at the sight. Her skin nearly looked charred. "Bloody hell," she whispered. She traced her finger lightly across the tree. The feeling nearly sent her toppling over.

"Can we at least figure out what it is?" Seamus demanded. "We can't have you be in pain all the time."

"Seamus is right," Arthur said, nodding at the younger man. "We cannot let you go around in this state, Hermione."

"And I cannot let the Order focus on me when there are much more important matters." She stood strong, even though she felt like she was a moment away from collapse. She shook her head. "Just eat your food. You're going to need the energy."

Without looking at anyone else, she turned on her heal and left.

She made her way up the staircases of Grimmauld Place slowly, trying to regain some of her energy and composure. Each step was a battle, her mind against her body. A step took the force of a thousand soldiers all fighting at once.

Her room was on the third floor. By the time she had made her way to the second floor landing, she collapsed on herself. Her legs lost the ability to hold her up, and she went down. She caught herself before she hit the floor. She lowered her body the rest of the way, until she was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest.

Merlin, what was happening to her? She leaned her head back against the wall, taking deep breaths and trying to calm her racing heartbeat. A cold sweat appeared on her face. She felt nauseous, clammy, and altogether weak.

She wasn't used to feeling weak.

She lifted her arm to be able to examine the mark more clearly. It was as black as ever. She looked it over. There were no distinguishing features. It was just a willow tree.

She thought about the willow tree her mother had planted in their garden when she had turned five. Her beautiful, dead mother.

Helen Granger had picked up her daughter and rested her on her hip, just after planting the baby tree in the backyard.

"What type of tree is it mama?" Hermione had asked, looking into her mother's large green eyes.

"It's a willow tree, my darling," her mother responded softly. "Do you see how the leaves hang down from the top?"

The little girl nodded, looking at the pretty tree. She frowned. "It looks like it is crying."

Her mother nodded. "That's because it is, my little one."

"Why is the tree sad?" Hermione asked, her voice confused. She had never seen sadness in something inhuman.

Her mother sighed. "It's sad because the world is a difficult place to live in. Life isn't always easy. But the willow stands tall, do you see it? It may be crying, but it's still standing. That's important. The winds may push that tree around, trying to control it and order it around, but it stays standing."

"The willow tree never breaks, Hermione. It bends, at most. It knows the world is hard, so it cries, but at the end of the day, it survives."

Willow trees survive.

She felt tears spring at the corners of her eyes. What was she doing? Sitting there, waiting for someone to come find her. Waiting for someone to figure it out. Waiting for someone to come save her.

She narrowed her now green eyes. No one saves her but herself.

She forced herself onto her two feet, and with determination, walked back down to the second floor. Taking a left, she opened the first door and entered the small library in the former Black estate.

She took a book off the shelf and began to research the mark that was quickly changing her entire existence.

That was how Ron and Harry found her a few hours later.

"'Mione?" the Chosen One asked, poking his head through the library door. He saw her immediately. "There you are."

She heard Ron's voice from behind. "If you can't find Hermione Granger in a library, you've lost her forever."

She sighed. "Hey guys." She flipped a page in the book.

They slipped into the room, closing, locking, and silencing the door behind them. They took two seats across from her at the table she was occupying.

"You feeling any better?" Harry asked, the concern in his eyes making her smile.

"A little bit," she replied. "I thought I'd do some research."

"Found anything?" Ron quipped.

She shook her head. "I went through volumes one and two of Magical Symbols and their Origins, but nothing about willow trees."

Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose. "We'll find something, we always do."

She let her eyes drift up to meet his. "I guess we match now."

His green eyes crinkled. "I guess so."

She cast her eyes back down. The change made her incredibly uncomfortable. She had always liked her brown eyes. They matched her dad's chocolate orbs. It had been her mother with the emeralds.

She shook off the discomfort. "Can we talk about Horcruxes, now?"

Harry and Ron glanced at each other so fleetingly that she nearly missed it. She narrowed her eyes. "Anything you want to tell me?"

They looked at each other again and exchanged a look Hermione couldn't quite decipher. Harry ended up being the one to turn to her.

He was hesitating. "Well, Hermione, Ron and I were talking about it recently…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

She could visibly see his heart speed up. "And we decided that it's time for us to go out and find the Horcruxes. We've been so occupied these past few years with raids and battles that we've forgotten what Dumbledore wanted us to do in the first place. We need to find the final pieces."

"Finally!" she cried. "I've been telling you two this for years. If we find the Horcurxes, then we have the tools to take him down. This war will not end until we get the cup, the snake, and whatever he managed to find of Ravenclaw's."

Harry flinched. "Yes, you're completely right. So we decided we're going to leave at the beginning of next week."

She thought about it for a moment. "Alright. Are we going to explain to anyone that we're going, or just disappear into the night?"

There was a pause.

"No, Hermione," Harry said slowly. "We're going to leave. Me and Ron."

Her mouth fell open. "Sorry…what?"

He sighed. "You're too valuable to the Order to come traveling with us."

She was flabbergasted. "It's not travelling, Harry, it's hunting for pieces of Voldemort's soul."

"There's no certainty in it," he replied. "Who knows if we're going to spend five months camping or find them in two days? You are integral to the missions and raids. There's a reason you are always leader if we don't have an auror."

She blinked rapidly. "I can't believe you two are considering leaving me behind. It's been the three of us since the beginning."

He rubbed the crease between his eyes. "We aren't leaving you behind. We're leaving you where you are most needed."

"So you don't need me?" she snapped. "May I remind you of all the times I have saved your asses since year one?"

Ron chimed in. "We aren't teenagers anymore. This isn't about copying a Potions essay. This is real life. We can handle ourselves."

"Do you really believe that?" she snarled, getting angrier by the second. "You two can't do this without me!"

"Yes we can, and we will," Harry said, resolutely. "Besides, with that mark on your arm, we don't know if you'd even be able to keep up…"

"Are you calling me a liability?" Her voice was suddenly deathly quiet.

Harry hesitated, before responding. "Uncertainty is a liability."

"Uncertainty is an opportunity."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "That's what Lupin said at dinner, and I seem to recall you not agreeing."

"Lupin was suggesting that we put me through exceptional pain in order to mold me into a weapon," she reminded him. "That's different than discovering that there may be power in this mark. There's a difference. My choice is the difference."

"'Mione, we can't risk it," Harry said. "At least if you're here, you'll have others around you if something goes wrong. You'll be able to do research, figure out what's wrong with you…"

She finally snapped. She slammed the book shut and stood up. "Nothing is wrong with me, Harry Potter," she hissed. "Besides the fact that I have backstabbing friends. This was our mission, Harry. All of us. We've all been here from the beginning. You're taking Ron for the same reason that you rescued him from the lake and not me during the Triwizard Tournament. Do not do me the disservice of pretending it's for my own sake."

She walked towards the door. Right before exiting, she turned back.

"Constant vigilance," she whispered as her parting words. She didn't wait around to see their reactions. She was already out the door and up the stairs before they realized what she said.

Her heart was hammering, and her eyes were filled with angry tears. She wasn't thinking at all. Without thinking about it at all, she marched up to Seamus's door, in the room he used to share with Dean. She knocked on it forcefully.

A few moments later, the Irishman opened the door. He visibly sighed in relief. "Hermione, I was worried about you…"

"I don't care," she said stoutly before pushing him forward until he was sitting on the edge of his bed. She turned and waved her hand, closing the door, locking it, and silencing the room.

Seamus gawked. "Have you always been able to do wandless magic?"

She barely heard him. "Please shut up," she muttered, before straddling his waist. His eyes darkened considerably at her action.

"Gladly," he murmured, before pulling her down on top of him.

She hardly noticed that her mark was still prickling.

* * *

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	6. Traitors

**225 followers is insanity.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Hermione woke at Seamus's side. The light from the window was streaming in, hitting Dean's empty bed. The sight of the neatly made sheets sent a dagger through her heart.

 _He should be here._

She glanced over at Seamus. He was still fast asleep. His face was peaceful, with his mouth parted ever so slightly. She sighed. He only ever looked like this when he was asleep. Content. Unafraid.

Happy.

She glanced out the window and realized it must be getting late. The sun was higher than it should've been. She ought to get back to her own room.

No one needed to see her with Seamus. That was private.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him up. He only muttered under his breath and rolled over, his happy face out of sight. She put on her clothes from the previous night, which had been thrown haphazardly across the room.

Once she got all the pieces, she headed to the door. After struggling with the knob for several moments, she realized it was locked.

She frowned. Had she locked the door the previous night after coming in? How had she done that? She didn't have her wand on her…

Then she remembered. She had used wandless magic, effortlessly closing, locking and silencing the room. With just a wave of her hand and an errant thought, she had managed to do something that should not have been possible.

She had never done wandless magic before.

She took a step back from the door, trying to understand where her newfound power had come from. Almost immediately, the willow tree on her arm began to tingle again. She glanced at it. It had changed colours again: black to bronze.

She turned back to the door and held out her right hand. She waved it in front of the lock and focused. A moment later she tried the doorknob.

Locked.

She frowned, when her mark began to tingle again. Hesitantly, she lifted her left hand and waved it in front of the door. The moment she did, a rush of energy went through her arm, making her unsteady on her feet.

The door clicked open.

Shock filled her veins. It had worked.

She forced herself out the door, and closed it quietly behind her. Placing her forehead on the door, she took several steadying breaths.

"Why didn't you tell us?" a voice asked, startling her from her reverie. She spun around to see Harry, leaning on the banister and looking at her. She gaped in shock for several moments, before casting her eyes downward.

"Tell you about what?" she whispered, rubbing the mark on her arm errantly.

He gestured to the closed door behind her. "Seamus. Why didn't you tell us you were seeing him?"

His tone irked her. "Why didn't you tell me that you and Ron had been discussing horcruxes?"

He paused. "We didn't want to hurt you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Consider your mission a failure then."

She walked towards the stairs, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead of her.

"Hermione, come on," Harry said, reaching out and grabbing her arm as she passed.

Without warning, a spark of energy went from her heart down to her arm. Harry flinched back, cursing, and shaking his hand.

She had burned him.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" he demanded, cradling his burnt hand against his chest.

She stood still. "I didn't do it," she whispered, glancing down at her mark.

It was black again.

Harry followed her gaze. "It was your mark, wasn't it?" His tone was accusatory.

She held out her hand and took a step back. "Don't come near me. I don't know what'll happen." Her skin was buzzing. Every part of her body felt like the end of a live wire.

Harry took a hesitant step forward. "You're not going to hurt me."

She shook her head. "Of course not, but I keep doing things I can't do. It did wandless magic last night. And today."

"It?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

"Me," she whispered. She looked up at him. "So I guess Lupin was right about the powers thing."

Above them, she heard footsteps walking on the stairs. She looked up. Fred was heading down, eyeing them both strangely.

"Why are you both up?" the twin asked, eyes flashing between them both.

"Hermione wasn't in Ginny's room," Harry responded.

She shot him a look. "But you, apparently, were."

He flushed. "Don't change the subject,"

After a moment, Fred rolled his eyes. "I have patrols this morning. I'm doing Diagon Alley. Either of you losers want to join?"

"I'll come," Hermione said, immediately.

Harry tensed. "Are you sure that's the best idea?"

She turned to look at him. "I thought you said I was vital to the Order and their missions."

His mouth fell open.

She smirked. "Come on, Fred. I'll disguise you."

* * *

"What was up with you and Boy Wonder this morning?" Fred asked, once they made it to Diagon Alley. The air was tense. Half the shops were closed, and any remaining shoppers skittered by as quickly as they could.

Fred and she were in their typical disguises. He had gone blonde, shrunk a foot and a half, and changed his facial features. She was raven-haired and taller by a good half a foot.

They were on a typical patrol mission. It was their job as Order Members to watch over populated areas for signs of attacks. They tried to disappear into their surroundings. In this case, that meant staying in a secluded and dark alleyway just off the main shopping district.

"What do you mean?" she asked, feigning ignorance. She itched at the mark on her arm, which had started prickling again.

He gave her a look. "You know what I mean. The two of you were nearly at each other's throats when I popped in. Was it because of Seamus?"

"What?" she asked, surprised. Then she shook her head. "No, we started fighting last night. That was part of the reason I went to Seamus in the first place."

"What were you fighting about?" he asked.

She nearly snarled her answer. "I'm sure you'll know by next week."

He didn't respond.

Hermione gazed out the alleyway at the shopping district. The cobblestoned streets that had once enthralled her so were nothing more than dirt and dust. No one repaired anything that was likely to get blown up in the next battle.

Her eyes drifted to the shop across from where they were standing. It had been boarded up for several years now. Ollivander's Wands, once a proud establishment, was now nothing but a reminder of the times in which the old man had helped scared eleven year olds.

She had seen him. She had nearly saved him. But he was still trapped in that damn dungeon beneath Malfoy Manor, wasting away.

That was the hardest part of being in the Order, she reckoned. Sometimes, like with Blaise, she could be content in the knowledge that their actions had saved a life. And then sometimes, their actions couldn't do anything.

She inched towards the alleyway exit and glanced down the strip. The mark in her arm had increased from a prickle to a full out burn. It wasn't painful yet, but it did set her off.

"Can you feel that?" she asked Fred, referring to the feeling she was getting. Something wasn't quite right. Something was wrong.

Before he could answer, she heard the explosion.

Her left hand raised of its own accord and cast a shield charm at their enclave's entrance, preventing any of the debris from hitting her or Fred. She coughed in the cloud of dust, and tried to focus despite the screams that overwhelmed her hearing and fire that overwhelmed her sight.

"It's Ollivander's!" She shouted at Fred. Indeed, it had been the old wandmaker's that had exploded. She turned to see her comrade coughing as well. She reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Come on, we need to check for survivors and attackers," she cried, pulling him along. They burst through her shield charm and into the chaos of Diagon Alley. The shoppers were screaming and running. Shops were closing on every side of her. In front of her, the wand shop burned like an inferno.

She rushed towards the blaze.

"Hermione!" Fred cried, pulling her back. "You'll get yourself killed."

"We need to check for people!" She answered, pulling against his grip.

"The place has been abandoned for years, you know that," he reminded her, letting her arm fall.

She shook her head. She couldn't explain it. She just…she just knew. "There's someone in there."

She didn't look back before rushing into the burning building.

The smoke engulfed her immediately. Casting a BubbleHead charm, she continued her trek, ignoring the shouts of Fred from behind her.

Ducking under the fallen bookcases of wands, she continued deeper into the burning labyrinth. Why had they attacked Ollivander's? She wondered. They knew no one would be here. They were the ones who had kidnapped the owner.

Her gut instinct told her to keep going, but something felt off about the entire situation. Could it just be to scare people? Destroy the remaining wands that had been left over?

She was trying to figure that out when she heard them.

"Drop the traitor here!" One voice shouted from somewhere in front of her.

"Good fucking riddance," someone replied.

There was a familiar pop of Apparition.

She had been right. There was someone here.

She snuck forward, avoiding anything that was on fire. When she made it to the back of the store, she saw him.

"Oh Merlin," she whispered.

The shape that was crumpled before her could hardly even be classified as human anymore. So beaten and broken that blood oozed from every inch of the body. She saw cuts and burns on what seemed to be nothing more than a hunk of meat. However, there was one distinguishing feature.

A halo of white-blond hair that she would have recognized anywhere.

"God, Malfoy," she whispered, making her way towards him.

She hadn't seen the Slytherin in years. Or at least that she knew of. Death Eaters wore masks in battle. She hadn't laid eyes on the slimy prick since the night he tried to killed Dumbledore. Since then, she had only heard his name in passing, in a long list of death eaters that they were trying to defeat.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Death Eater.

The crumpled, beaten, inhuman form before her, at his roots, was her enemy. This was not someone for her to safe, or rescue. This was a man she was trying to defeat.

However, he was still a man.

Malfoy moaned at her feet, and her decision was made. She leaned forward and whispered very softly.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she muttered. He only groaned in response. She reached down and took his arms. With on hand, she draped them over her shoulder. With the other, she took his legs. After a moment adjusting, she lifted him up in the way that Muggle Firefighters did.

Ironic, given their circumstances.

She couldn't risk apparating with Malfoy in this state. Who knew if he would splinch himself? She turned back to the inferno. There was only one way.

She started forward.

Ducking under bookshelves, and stepping over wand boxes, she made her way through the burning shop. Every moment was a step closer to freedom. She sent prayers to the Gods above her to allow her to complete this mission.

No sooner had she sent the prayers upwards, she was out of the building.

The second she made it to clear air, she collapsed, Malfoy falling on top of her.

"Hermione!" a voice shouted. She ignored it.

"Come on, Malfoy," she whispered, forcing herself on to her feet. "We're almost there."

She carried him away from the burning building. Ahead of her, she saw Fred, Lupin, Ron, Arthur, and Tonks rushing towards her. Mad Eye and Seamus were turned to the sides, in a defensive position.

"Hermione, what are…is that Malfoy?!"

"He's nearly dead," she answered. "Come on, help me with him."

"You could've been killed!" Ron shouted. "What, for some death eater?"

She started stuttering in response. "I couldn't…I couldn't leave him there!"

"He's a fucking death eater, Hermione!"

A shout from within the building came back to her.

"No he's not," she whispered. She looked up, blinking rapidly. "They called him traitor!"

The others froze at her words. After several strained moments, Tonks was first to react.

"There's only one way to know for sure," she muttered, rushing forward. She grabbed Malfoy's left arm, and twisted it, causing the man to howl in pain.

Tonks gasped. "Get him back to Headquarters."

"What?!" Ron cried, outraged.

Tonks looked to the sky nervously. "We need to get out of here. Clean up the fire. Hermione, come on!"

Hermione apparated away without a second thought.

She landed in the kitchen, where the rest of the Order was waiting patiently. "Help me!" she screamed, buckling under Malfoy's weight.

Molly was the first to react. She cleared the kitchen table. Hermione lowered the man she hated gently onto its surface. He coughed blood in her face.

"Call Pomfrey," she muttered, wiping her face off with the sleeve of her robe. Molly turned on her heel and rushed from the room.

Tonks appeared a second later at her side. She saw Malfoy immediately.

"Is someone going for help?" she demanded.

Hermione nodded, numb. Her eyes couldn't leave the battered form of her childhood enemy.

Harry took a step forward. "Who is that?"

"Malfoy," she muttered in response.

The reaction was instantaneous. "WHAT?!"

Tonks shook her head. "No, Harry. He turned traitor on them."

Harry was shaking. "That's not fucking possible. Draco Malfoy would never turn from his beloved lord."

"Calm down," Hermione snapped at him, her eyes still on the Slytherin. "They tortured him, beat him, and dropped him in a burning building."

"How can you be sure?" Harry demanded. His face was red with rage. "This could all be a set-up. You just risked everything for a trick!"

Tonks intervened on her behalf. "This is not a trick, Harry. Look at him."

"I see nothing but a Death Eater."

Hermione burst. "I couldn't just leave him there!"

"Why bloody not?" Harry screamed. "He would have done that if the roles were reversed!"

"But I am not him," she stated. "I am a fighter for the light, and for life. All life."

"He tried to kill Dumbledore," Harry said. He was trembling.

"Shut up, Harry," Tonks stated. He turned to her in shock. She walked up around the table to Malfoy's other side and lifted his left arm in the arm. He screamed in pain.

"Look!" she demanded. Hermione leaned forward.

There, on his forearm, was the Dark Mark. However, it was distorted by two thick, red, lines cut into his skin in the shape of an X.

Tonks threw his arm down. "He's been branded, twice. Once as a Death Eater, once as a deserter."

Hermione's arms shifted to the groaning body of Draco Malfoy.

 _Branded._

* * *

"Are you alright?" a voice asked her.

It was later that day. Pomfrey had whisked Malfoy into one of the empty rooms and spent the afternoon mending his injuries. According to her, much of the damage was superficial. He would heal within the week.

Hermione was sitting alone by the fireplace. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her and given her a mug of tea. She was clutching it close to her breast. A fair amount of time had passed since then, and the liquid in the mug was now cold.

Fred stood above her, his hair singed from this morning's adventures.

"I don't know," she replied, staring into the flames.

He sighed and sat down next to her. "You should not have gone into that building."

"There was someone in there," she reminded him.

"Yeah, Draco fucking Malfoy. Not the noblest cause to nearly kill yourself for."

"I didn't die."

Fred gave her a look. "Did you see that building, Hermione? It was burning, top to bottom. You should not have even made it to Malfoy, let alone gotten him out. When you got out, you were glowing bright blue. Did you cast a shield?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "I didn't do a damn thing."

"Jesus, Mione," Fred breathed. "You should've died."

She glanced down at where her left arm was under the blanket. For a moment, her eyes seemed to go out of focus.

 _The bloodline must survive_ a voice sounded in her head.

"And I don't trust this Malfoy is a traitor business," Fred continued, without noticing Hermione's disinterest. "It all seems… off."

"His mark had been cut," she said, lifelessly.

"Anyone can take a knife and make some scratches," he said. "You can't tell me that you honestly think Draco Malfoy has pranced over to the light side?"

"I don't," she replied stoutly. "But I think the rules of the Dark Side are different than ours. He might've been branded for failing a mission, or refusing to do something. We won't know until we know. We can't be making assumptions before then."

"You can't be thinking like this."

"Why not?" she shot back. "The only thing we know for sure is that they cut up his mark and left him to die. I'm interested as to why."

"It's Draco Malfoy," Fred reminded her. "He's a slimy, evil git."

"I know," she said. "He's terrible and awful and there aren't words for how much I hate him."

"But you saved him."

"He's a human being," she whispered. "And deserves to…"

Fred gaped. "Do not tell me that you believe Death Eaters should be entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of fucking happiness."

"That's not what I was going to say," she responded. "I was going to say deserves to not be burned alive while another human being stood and watched. I couldn't just let him die."

"Why not?" Fred demanded. "You should hear Harry and Ron downstairs. Seamus too. They can't understand your decision."

"They don't need to," she muttered. "Because, no matter how much they fucking hate it, I still saved Draco Malfoy's life tonight. Even though I hate Draco Malfoy."

"I don't understand you," Fred said thoughtfully.

She laughed dryly. "It's not that hard to follow my logic. Think of it like this: we're on the light side because we care about equality and human life, right?"

"Right."

She turned her gaze back to the fire. "If I only saved the people I loved, that wouldn't be caring about human life. That would be caring about my life and those in it. That's selfish, not good. Being good does not mean saving your friends and family. It means saving as many as you can. A life is a human life."

"Dumbledore once said that every human life is worth the same and worth saving. I will save those I can. I do not have the authority to stand at the scales of justice and condemn someone to death based on their deeds or my knowledge of them. I don't have that power. Doing anything but saving those I can would be doing a disservice to the name of goodness, Fred. That's why I saved Draco Malfoy. Because he's a human being and I save human beings."

There was silence after her speech. There was silence for a while, as the two of them stared at the flickering flames, and considered everything she had just said.

* * *

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	7. Duties

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* * *

The mark on his harm was burning when he woke up.

He drifted back into consciousness, blinking rapidly and attempting to leave the fog surrounding his brain. The fog began to dissipate, leaving nothing but a numbing feeling that spread from his arm to his entire body.

Bloody fucking hell.

He glanced around the room he was in. It was nothing special, just a simple bedroom. The black walls were stripped off all ornaments, but there were darker rectangles where presumably, portraits had once hung.

He was on a small bed, the only one in the small bedroom. It took him a few seconds to realize that he had been tied down. The ropes were wrapped around his midsection, elbows and the bed, preventing him from moving anywhere.

He nearly chuckled. Naturally, he could perform some rudimentary wandless magic and could escape if he wished.

However, if this was going to work, he needed to stay put.

The beating he had taken had drained him of most of his energy. Whether or not the Dark Lord had wished this, his father had cast a numbing charm on his son before commencing the attack. That way, Draco looked the part of the beaten deserter, without feeling any of the actual pain.

Deserter. The word danced through his head for a moment. For all intents and purposes, he was a deserter now. He glanced down at his dark mark. Even though he was expecting it, the large red X through it still shook him to his very core.

He had been branded. Obviously, the Dark Lord did not consider him a traitor, but anyone else, including other death eaters, would see him as a deserter.

That was the point. The Order of the Phoenix would never believe that someone had left the Dark Lord's service without the mark being cut up. However, it sit ill in his bones.

He wasn't a death eater anymore. Not to the world, at least. He was without organization, without sponsors.

He knew that if he accomplished his task, the Dark Lord would repair the mark and welcome him back with open arms. The others, including the bastards who had been ordered to leave him alive in a burning building in Diagon Alley, would have to go along with it.

He groaned at the memory. His father's spell had lasted during the drop-off obviously, but the heat, the terrible scorching heat. It was torture in its own right. He could not save himself in his condition. He merely had to hope that they had the correct information in knowing that the Order patrols the area every day. No saintly member of the Order would have left the wand shop burning without checking it for survivors.

He had never prayed before that moment. He knew a little bit about Muggle deities, but the entire concept had struck him as ridiculous. However, when his entire life rested on whether or not an Order member would check for survivors, he understood how Muggles put their faith in wizards in the sky.

She had looked like an angel, his saviour. The smoke had been too thick, and the fog in his brain too powerful for him to recognize who it was. They were probably in disguise anyway. But that voice, that sweet voice that had recognized him and brought him from the building.

He had never heard salvation before.

He tried to move his arm, but just groaned at the attempt. He comprehended that his desertion had to be believable for him to be capable of infiltrating the organization. However, the cruelty of the Dark Lord's choice to have him beaten and left for death did not go un-noticed. Instead of inducing hatred within him, something he had only felt for his master once or twice beforehand, it just made him tired.

The entire affair made him tired. Exhausted. Drained. Finished.

But he wasn't finished yet. He still had a mission to complete.

The first time he had tortured someone, he had hesitated. Luckily, the Dark Lord had not been present on the occasion. As Draco looked at the poor muggle family, clutching each other and shivering, he found himself unable to cast the Unforgivable.

What crime had they committed to warrant such a fate?

His father had walked behind him and hissed in his ear. "This is your duty."

The moment had stayed with him, far after the muggle family was dead and burned. Duty. It was his duty. What is right and wrong in the face of duty and honour?

However, honour had been harder to find as the war dragged on.

But this, this was duty. So Draco, feeling numb and drained, opened his mouth and started shouting.

"What the fuck is this?! Let me go, you death eater bastards!"

He kept shouting profanities and curses for several minutes, until at last, he heard the lock click and the door swing open.

He paused in his shouting, and without acting, stared at the man in the door, shock filling his face.

"Blaise?" he asked, surprised.

His once best friend sauntered into the room like he had been living there his entire life. The dark-skinned Italian man walked over to his bed, and stood looking down at him.

"Hello, Draco," he said, coolly.

The deserter's mouth fell open and he began stuttering. "What are you…why…what the bloody hell is going on?"

Blaise's eyes narrowed, staring rather pointedly at his branded arm. "What do you remember?"

Draco hesitated, half in acting and half in reality. "Fire…fire and pain."

Blaise nodded thoughtfully. "I would assume after the week you had."

He raised his eyebrows. "Week? What are you on?"

His old friend sighed, and sat at the end of the bed. He took a moment to think before answering Draco's question.

"You nearly died four days ago. You were left for dead in a burning building. However, lucky for your sorry ass, a combatant decided that she wouldn't leave anyone behind."

Draco let his eyes drift over his body, for the first time noticing the amount of shiny new scars that anointed his skin. "Left for dead?"

Blaise paused. "Drake," he started. Draco winced at the nickname reserved for his friends at Hogwarts. Blaise didn't seem to notice his reaction. The Italian ran a hand through his hair before looking at him once again.

"Are you a deserter?"

The question held its own weight in the room. Draco let his eyes drop to his cut up forearm.

"It would seem so," he hissed in response.

"What did you do?" Blaise asked, avoiding his eyes once more.

Draco took a moment before answering. "A muggle raid last week. The family had a little girl. She was crying."

Blaise flinched. "Did you kill her?"

"No," Draco whispered. The lie burned his throat. He recalled, painfully, the real memory that he was altering for his story. She had two blonde braids at the side of her head. He had killed her the second tears appeared in her eyes.

He tried to convince himself that it was kind compared to the fate his comrades would've inflicted if they had found a pretty, little muggle girl.

His first non-defensive kill. A mercy killing. Murdered was better than raped, tortured and murdered. At least, that's what he had shouted at himself.

Draco shook himself out of the memory. He couldn't change it now. He took a deep breath, before continuing.

"Apparently, not murdering a muggle child counts as a crime against the…Voldemort." He winced at his mistake. Blaise didn't seem to notice it though. "I was branded and beaten before I could blink."

His friend didn't say anything for a moment.

"Who branded you?" he asked.

Draco forced all the real emotion out of his voice. "My father."

Of all the cruelty the Dark Lord had done against him this past week, the choice of Lucius Malfoy as the brander had struck a chord inside him he didn't even know he had.

Blaise blinked rapidly at his admission. "Lucius?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, my other father." He cast his eyes around the room. "Now where the fuck am I?"

Blaise stood up once again before leaving the room. Draco gaped as the door closed. Behind it, he heard hushed whisperings. He strained his ear to try and catch a piece of the conversation.

"Lucius branded him...what a choice…muggle…sarcastic git…"

Draco tried not to chuckle at the last comment. Lucky he did, for a moment later, the door opened again.

This time, it was the pale face of Remus Lupin that greeted him.

"Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Draco Malfoy."

He blinked, trying to look surprised. "Sorry what?"

His once DADA teacher walked into the room, closing the door behind him, before turning back to the man on the bed. "You are currently in the custody of the Order of the Phoenix, if you hadn't figured that out earlier."

"I hadn't actually," he responded stoutly. "I hadn't realized Blaise joined up."

"He didn't," Lupin said. "His family estate was attacked by your side earlier this week. An Order team was dispatched and rescued him before the murder could be performed. He's been under our protection ever since."

Draco blinked several times. The Zabini raid. "I…I hadn't realized he was in danger."

The death threat had been a last resort. Not a requirement.

Hadn't it?

Lupin narrowed his eyes. "You apparently do not know much about the side you're on."

He glanced down at his arm. "Technically, not anymore."

Lupin conjured a chair, and sat facing it. He glanced at the ropes. "Don't try and escape," he said bluntly. "The ropes are charmed to repel wandless magic."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Where did you lot get the power to do that charm?"

For the first time, Lupin hesitated. After a moment, he answered. "We have recently acquired a new power source."

The moment Lupin said it Draco knew who he meant.

He pushed forward very quickly. "Blaise tells us that you were branded deserter for saving the life of a muggle girl in a raid."

Draco nodded slowly, guarding his eyes. The little girl flashed across his mind.

She was his fifth.

Lupin examined his face. "What did she look like?"

"Blonde hair in braids. Pink dress."

"How did she escape?" he shot.

"She didn't," Draco said bluntly. "I was caught before I could get her out. She was killed anyway."

"Who killed her?"

"My father," he responded coolly. Lucius had murdered the rest of the family. Why not give him the credit for the girl too?

Lupin pursed his lips. "What happened afterwards?"

"What do you think happened, werewolf? I was brought before Voldemort, declared a traitor, then branded and left for dead. I believe your lot was there for the last part."

"You're lucky one of our more…compassionate members found you. With your track record, most would've left you to die."

"Lucky is not what I would call myself," Draco murmured.

Lupin tilted his head. "Your father was the one to brand you?"

This time, Draco could not keep the hurt out of his voice. "Yes," he muttered, trying to hide the rare glimpse of his genuine emotion from his observer. "It isn't enough to kill me, you've got to torture me both physically and mentally. Why stab someone when you can stab and twist?"

The werewolf surveyed him for a moment. He felt the eyes of his old professor observe him thoughtfully, as if considering all the objects. After a minute or two, the older man spoke.

"Do you want asylum?"

Draco couldn't help his mouth from dropping. "What?"

"You're branded, Mr. Malfoy," Lupin reminded him. "They would've realized that you did not perish as intended. From my experience, Voldemort does not allow traitors to live. You have a bounty on your head. The moment you leave this safe house, you will be killed."

This was all true, even for him. Hardly any death eaters knew he wasn't a traitor. He was a dead man walking until he completed his task.

"I know," he responded. "But why would your lot try and save me? I'm not some innocent."

Something similar to a twinkle appeared in his eye. "Someone recently reminded us all that all human lives are worth the same, and worth saving."

He scoffed. "I bet every single person here agrees with that. Have you asked Potter what he thinks?"

Lupin sighed. "Better hated alive than hated dead."

Draco should've been cheering. This was exactly what he needed: a way in. However, it wasn't sitting right with him.

"You all hate me," he stated bluntly.

"True," Lupin nodded. "But you are a human being."

"You think I'm evil!" he cried out, unable to stand the goodness radiating off the man in front of him.

Lupin shook his head. "I think you are misguided. I think you are coerced and living within a world of bigotry. I think you were raised and groomed to be the perfect Death Eater. But, the look on your face when you said the girl died anyway was very telling. No one can fake guilt like that."

He supposed Lupin was right on that front.

The guilt wasn't faked. That wasn't part of his mission.

That was just what he lived with.

* * *

"I don't fucking buy it," Seamus muttered that night, stroking Hermione's hair softly. It was around midnight, and mostly everyone was asleep. She lay next to him in bed, resting her head on his chest.

"Hmm?" she asked, tilting her head up to look at him. "Don't buy what?"

"The Malfoy story," he responded.

She shouldn't have even asked.

Ever since Malfoy had woken up that afternoon, the house had been divided down the middle between those who believed the story and those who didn't.

Lupin had made it clear, though. Regardless of personal feelings about Draco Malfoy, the man had been branded as a traitor. That was not something taken lightly, on either side. He had a death sentence on his head.

Some were saying to throw him to the wolves.

"Draco Malfoy did not just desert Voldemort," Seamus muttered, venomously. "He's been in for four years. I feel like if his conscience kicked in, it would've done it sooner."

Hermione gave him a look. "Maybe it had, but he was too far in to do anything."

Seamus frowned. "Are you seriously saying that you believe this?"

She shrugged. "I'm going to decide when I talk to Malfoy."

Seamus sat up very suddenly. Hermione was thrown off of him to the side of the bed. Taking a moment to breath, she wrapped the top sheet around herself and sat up as well.

"You're not going to talk to Malfoy," Seamus declared, crossing his arms.

Hermione gave him a look. "What are you talking about? He's under asylum here. I live here."

Seamus scoffed. "Please, like Lupin's ruling is going to hold for long."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Are you suggesting something?"

Seamus stuttered under her gaze. "No, I just mean…is Malfoy really going to want to be here?"

She sighed. "In comparison to death, probably."

"Regardless, you are still not talking to him."

She crossed her arms. "Under whose authority?"

"Me, Ron and Harry were talking about it…"

She burst out laughing. It felt like her first real laugh in a very long time. "Please, you three hold no authority over me."

"We just don't want you getting hurt," Seamus pleaded. "Malfoy was nothing but cruel to you at Hogwarts, and you're a muggleborn."

"A muggleborn who can jinx circles around all three of you," she snarled. "Are you really suggesting that I can't protect myself against Malfoy, of all people?"

Seamus started backtracking immediately. "No, of course not. We just think…"

Hermione got out of bed very quickly at this. Seamus sat up straighter, worried now. "Where are you going?"

Hermione began putting on her clothes. "If you bloody well think that I'm going to listen to the three of you on this, you are mistaken, Seamus. I can protect myself against Draco Malfoy, and I will not have you all belittling me in your misguided attempt at being my knights in shining armour."

"We're just trying to protect you!" Seamus exclaimed.

She snapped then, standing up straight and facing him with nothing short of fury.

"I protect myself," she hissed. "Might I remind you, thanks to the Willow Tree Faction of the Universe, I have recently acquired a newfound burst of magical skill and power."

"At the cost of your ability to stand up," he snapped back. "You can barely stand on your own two feet."

She stamped her foot at his comment. "I'm surviving, as I always have," she snarled. "And no willow tree, or Draco fucking Malfoy, is going to change that."

"Hermione, please," he begged, using a tone that made her stop for a moment. He was pleading. "I can't have anything happen to you, not after…not after Dean."

She paused, sighing. She had suspected that his recent protective street had to do with the death of his best friend. She kneeled next to the bed.

"I'm not going to die if I talk to Draco Malfoy," she whispered. "We are in the middle of a war. Risks are taken. You can't be focusing on me. You need to focus on yourself."

He took her hand. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"I'm going to try my damn hardest to make sure nothing does," she responded. "But if something does happen, it has nothing to do with you."

"Hermione, please," he whispered again. "Don't talk to him."

Anger flared within her once again. "Draco Malfoy does not have the capacity to hurt me."

"Maybe, maybe not," he muttered. "I don't trust him."

"No one said you had to," she responded. "You don't have to trust him, or like him. That doesn't change Lupin's ruling."

"Harry, Ron and I all agree…"

"Well, you know what," she snapped, standing up. "Harry and Ron might not be here next week. That decreases their authority."

His eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about?"

"Ask them your bloody self," she snarled, before storming from the room.

How dare those boys, she thought furiously, ascending the stairs to the third floor. Two of them are about to leave her behind, and still have the audacity to act like they hold authority over her. In the chain of command all four of them, Harry, Ron, Seamus, and herself, were in the second rank, beneath the aurors and those who had fought in the previous war. Obviously, Harry got special consideration because of his circumstance, but that didn't give him the right to order her around.

Talking to Draco Malfoy was nowhere near the most dangerous thing she had done as of late. She had fought in battles where her friends had died in front of her. She had walked into burning buildings to save survivors.

A bloody fucking Slytherin was nothing _, absolutely nothing_ compared to the atrocities of war.

She reached the third floor and stormed across to the empty bedroom. Without hesitation, she reached forward with her left hand and pushed it open.

He had been sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall. His hands were still bound by the robes she had charmed. His blonde hair lay limply over his forehead. She could see he was cradling his bound wrists to not have any pressure on his cut-up forearm.

His silver-grey eyes popped open at her entrance. Emotions danced across his face in sequence; irritation, confusion, shock, and finally something that she couldn't quite decipher.

They remained in silence for several moments, surveying each other. Finally, she spoke.

"Draco Malfoy," she said, coolly, nodding at him in greeting.

He nodded in return. "Hermione…Granger."

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	8. Shifts

**300 Followers!**

 **(Sorry for the delay on this one, it's exam season)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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Have her eyes always been green? He thought to himself as he observed the Pureblooded Princess of the Wizarding World. He could've sworn they used to be brown.

She stood in the doorway, radiating power from her head to her toes. He could feel it wash over him in waves. It dazzled him, almost sending him spinning into a fog.

He forced himself back, but he couldn't help his reaction.

She was dazzling.

It wasn't just beauty, though she was beautiful. Her soft caramel curls framed her heart shaped face with ease, falling into perfection effortlessly. She was very petite, almost delicate. He knew that assumption to be false based on the muscles he could see clearly defined all over her body.

And the eyes, oh merlin, the eyes. It wasn't just the startling emerald green that sent his heartrate into a tailspin. They seemed to see right into what was left of his soul.

But the thing that really threw him was the power. Anyone could've seen it. She was practically glowing. Magic was escaping her in droves, unable to be contained within her human form.

Ethereal.

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you done gaping?"

He snapped his mouth closed with a shut. He hadn't realized it had fallen open.

She smirked. "Never thought the day would come when I could make Draco Malfoy gawk."

"I did not gawk," he scoffed, indignantly. "I was merely surprised to see you."

She rolled her eyes and walked fully into the room, closing the door behind her. "No need to be so formal on my behalf, Malfoy."

She may be a pureblood now, but she's still as bloody annoying, he thought. "It's been a long time, bookworm."

She leaned against the door with her arms crossed. "Three years," she mused. "You've changed."

"You as well," he shot back. "What's with the eyes?"

For the first time, she looked down. "Recent circumstances have changed things," she muttered. "Surprised you noticed."

"You never forget the eyes of someone who punched you in the face."

She chuckled. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Really?" he asked, feigning offence. "And here I thought I was special."

"Have you always been such a self-absorbed prat?" she shot at him.

"I'm like a fine wine, bookworm," he smirked. "I get better with age."

She took a few steps forward, and with her left hand, wandlessly conjured a chair. She sat in it, and crossed her legs.

Draco couldn't help the noise of disbelief that sounded from his throat. "Merlin, bookworm, you've been busy."

"Three years, Malfoy," she responded. "Lots has changed since the last time I saw you." Her gaze drifted down to the cut-up mark on his arm.

"I couldn't agree more," he said, letting his gaze fall to her wrist. She was cradling it in a way that gave him a perfect view of the dark willow tree burned into her skin.

She saw what he was looking at and immediately twisted it out of his sight.

"Touchy," he muttered, leaning back.

"Three years," she responded curtly, absent-mindedly touching the mark. "But I am nothing of interest in comparison to your presence in this building."

"There it is," Draco muttered, staring once again at his battered arms.

"Did you honestly think I was here to catch up?" She responded, crossing her arms. "Sorry, Malfoy, not my interest."

He sighed and looked up to meet her eyes. "So I take it you don't believe the werewolf's account of my story. Sorry, Granger, it's not _my_ interest to get questioned about my evil scheme and infiltration plan."

She shook her head. "I didn't say I didn't believe Remus."

He blinked several times in response. "So you do?"

She nodded. "I don't believe anyone would let themselves be mutilated by their father for a mission."

An uncomfortable feeling he couldn't distinguish trickled down his neck at her comment.

"I think you were indeed branded as a traitor and left for dead in a burning building."

"Might I ask," he interrupted. "If you are so confident in the validity of my story, why the bloody hell are you in here talking to me? You said it yourself, you aren't interested in chatting."

She leaned forward. "I just want to hear it from you. I want Draco Malfoy to tell me why he was branded and dropped into a burning building."

"I'm sure you heard the glorious story from your werewolf."

"Oh, I heard the story," she muttered. "I just don't understand the motivation."

"Pardon?"

"Why, Malfoy?" she asked, her green eyes looking up to search his silver ones. "Why would you care if you killed a muggle girl?"

"She was innocent," he answered, the truth appearing for one of the first times. He shifted uncomfortably at the memory.

"Why do you care about that?" she barked. "Lots of dead people were innocent."

"What is your deal, bookworm?" he answered, squirming slightly. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I want to understand, Malfoy," she said, crossing her legs. "I want to comprehend how you ended up here."

"I already told you, I didn't kill the muggle girl."

"See, that's the part I don't buy," she stated. "You've been a death eater for three years. Surely, you've had to kill hundreds of people."

"Five," he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

He looked up. It was the first time she saw something resembling guilt in his eyes. "I've had to kill five people."

Her mouth dropped open. "Five…only five?"

"Only," he scoffed. "What's your view of murder, bookworm, that you think five lives warrants an only?"

"I just assumed…" she started before he cut across her.

"Don't assume, then," he nearly snarled. "You don't know jack shit about my past three years."

An uneasy silence fell across the room.

She looked at the floor, trying to avoid his eyes and decide what she was going to say next. He watched the Princess thinking, and noticed the little crease that had formed in between her eyebrows.

"I never wanted to be a killer," he said, looking at the little mark of her thought. "I lowered my wand at Dumbledore. I only kill when I have to. When I have no choice."

"What's a choice, Malfoy?" she answered, looking back up. "When do you kill?"

"To protect and to defend," he muttered.

"To protect?" she asked. "To protect what? Yourself? Isn't that the same as defending?"

He shook his head. "No. To protect them."

She gawked. "How is death protecting them?"

He sighed. "When the alternative is worse."

The silence fell upon them once again.

She reached up and brushed her long brown hair out of her face, letting it fall over her shoulder. He looked at the curve of her neck for a moment before speaking.

"What about you, Gryffindor? What've you been up to the past three years? We've psycho-analyzed me, seems only fair that I return the favour."

She laughed dryly, and he saw her eyes flit quickly to her wrist. "Haven't you learned by now, Malfoy? Life isn't fair."

"I think I've heard that once or twice."

She crossed her arms. "You don't get to know what's going on in my life."

"Why not? You get to interrogate me."

"Because you're being offered asylum in my headquarters," she responded. "You do not deserve to know a goddamn thing about my life, Draco Malfoy. You never have."

He flinched at her tone. "I didn't mean to offend, Princess."

She tilted her head. "Princess? I don't think I've heard that one from you before."

He cursed himself at the slip of the tongue. "You've always been the Gryffindor Princess. You, your Gryffindor Prince, and his jester."

"Don't talk about them like that," she snapped.

"Struck a nerve, I see," he smiled dryly. "Nice to see the trio is still inseparable."

"Depends on your definition of inseparable," she muttered so quietly she barely heard herself.

Of course he heard.

"Oh?" he asked, interest piqued. "The Golden Trio is having problems?"

She bristled. "My relationship with Harry and Ron is absolutely none of your business."

He raised an eyebrow. "Relationship, or lack thereof?"

She flinched, eyes darting down to the ground. He smirked. "I see."

"Why do you give a damn about what's going on in my life?" she snarled.

He shrugged. "Seems we might be spending a lot of time together, with me living here. I don't want to be on bad terms."

"B-b-bad terms?" she asked, before breaking into a ferocious laugh. "Oh, that's rich, Malfoy. Like you and I could ever be anything but on bad terms. You bullied me for years, you introduced me to the label that has almost gotten me killed. You almost murdered our Headmaster! We're on opposite sides of a war, remember? Or we were until today. Y-y-you…you and I could never be anything but enemies."

"And yet," he replied, keeping his gaze steady. "You're still here."

Her laugh trickled off into silence. She blinked several times. "What?"

"You're still here," he said, smirking slightly. "We could never be anything more than enemies, remember? And yet, you came into this room to hear my side of the story. You came here. No one forced you, I assume. You walked in here of your own accord and had a conversation with me. I know a lot about enemies, Hermione Granger, and I don't believe that this is standard behaviour."

She was shell-shocked at his response, unable to think of a single thing to say.

Seeing her reaction, Draco found himself smiling. "Would you look at that? Never thought the day would come where I could make Hermione Granger speechless."

In spite of her anger, she chuckled at his comment. "Touché, Malfoy."

As she laughed, her dead and angry eyes seemed to regain some of their former glory. For a moment, there was light within them. Light in the dead eyes of the barely living girl.

He seemed to forget himself while looking at her. She brushed her long hair behind her ear and leaned forward to rest her chin on her hand.

"How are the injuries?" she asked suddenly, looking with concern at the healing flesh on his arms and neck.

He shrugged, trying to brush off the burning sensation. "Alright. It's hard to complain when I got so lucky. Had your Order Member not gotten me out of the building when she did, well, we wouldn't be having this conversation, now would we?"

A veiled look ghosted over her face. "No," she muttered. "We wouldn't."

He tilted his head. "So did I pass your little test then? Ready to skip off to your friends and let them know that I've got the rare Hermione Granger seal of approval?"

"I think the Hermione Granger seal of approval is a stretch there," she answered.

"Then what did I get?" Draco asked, watching her very carefully.

"Not cursed, so there's that," she replied bluntly.

A smile appeared on his face.

 _This was his princess._

The second the thought entered his head, he flinched. Noticing his reaction, she tilted her head questioningly.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head quickly, ignoring his fast-beating heart. "No, ma'am."

 _He had called her his._

Before being able to puzzle over the shift in his opinion towards the Princess, he heard a commotion outside the door. She looked up very quickly, eyes widening.

Neither of them had time to say anything before the door slammed open.

Standing in the doorway was someone Draco had not seen in years. Gryffindor, his year, but the name escaped him. The man was breathing deeply, glaring at the two of them sitting there.

"Hermione, we talked about this," he snarled at the Pureblood Princess.

She seemed unaffected. "No, Seamus. You talked about it and I told you that your opinion didn't matter to me."

Finnigan took several long strides into the room. His eyes flashed to the Slytherin. "You made a big mistake coming here, snake."

In moments, Hermione was standing between the two of them. Draco had not seen her stand nor move, but she was there, power burning off of her.

"No, Seamus," she said, voice strong. "You aren't going to do a goddamn thing."

He balked at her statement. "Twenty minutes with him and your putty in his hands."

"I am not," she responded. "I'm reasonable. He's under asylum here, and you have no authority to touch him."

"Only one here I haven't had the authority to touch recently," Seamus responded, giving Hermione a once-over. She didn't react.

Draco did. At least, he did inside. The implication of the man's statement was obvious and Hermione's silence confirmed it. The two Gryffindors standing in front of him were obviously involved.

For some reason or another, the thought of Finnigan's hands on the Princess made his blood boil. He was below her, both in power and bloodline. She was his better, and deserved someone at her own level.

She deserved perfection.

"This is neither the time nor place, Seamus," she responded, facing him. "I really think you should get out."

The man started shaking his head quickly. "I am not leaving you alone with that snake."

"I've been alone with him for nearly twenty minutes, and nothing has happened."

Unhelpfully, Draco chose this moment to speak. "Also, may I point out," he said, lifting his bound wrists. "I can't really do anything right now."

The look Finnigan sent him was nothing short of murder.

"Hermione," the Gryffindor said, this time his voice softer and pleading. "Just leave."

"No," she responded stoutly.

"Get out of here!"

"You do not have authority over me, Seamus!"

"Someone should!" the Irishman shouted, finally losing it. "Otherwise, Hermione, you're a fucking idiot. You allow yourself to get grabbed by death eaters, you run into burning buildings to save death eater scum…"

Suddenly, Seamus's mouth slammed shut. Hermione was raising her left hand and holding it in front of her. Energy was washing off of it.

"I think," she said, enunciating every syllable. "You should go now, Seamus."

He opened his mouth to refute, but no sound came out. After flapping his mouth indignantly for a moment, he turned on his heel and stormed from the room.

After the door had slammed shut, Hermione stood there breathing heavily for a few moments. The silence fell over them, suffocating the space.

"You and Finnigan, eh?" Draco asked after a bit. His tongue tasted bitter even saying the words. "I always had my money on you and the Weasel King."

"That's not really your business now is it, Malfoy," she responded, looking at the door.

"He just made it my business by coming in here and practically putting a property tag on you right in front of me."

She shook her head. "My life is still not your business, no matter what Seamus does."

Draco shifted on the bed slightly. "What was his deal anyway? Doesn't he know that you, of all people, can defend yourself against the likes of me?"

She finally turned around to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He gave her a blank look. "I mean, isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"Well, bookworm," Draco said, glancing down at his bound wrists. "The reality is you are probably the most powerful person in this entire building. You don't need to be defended. You are the top defender."

She tilted her head. "How could you possibly know the extent of my power?"

He shrugged. "You were always the best at Hogwarts, you've had years in the field, and besides," he trailed off, giving her an once-over before finishing. "I have a gut feeling."

He could not decipher the look on her face for the life of him. After a few seconds, she responded.

"Seamus means well, he does. He lost his best friend recently and it's made him…protective."

"Possessive is not protective," Draco muttered, before meeting her eyes once again. "Who'd he lose?"

"We," she said. " _We_ lost Dean Thomas."

An image creeped out from the back of Draco's mind, of a familiar face and a flash of his wand. He felt himself pale as the memory assaulted him.

 _Fuck._

She noticed his shift immediately, of course. "Malfoy? You alright there?"

He took a few breaths, trying to dispel the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah…yeah I'm fine."

"You look upset."

"Why wouldn't I be upset?" he deflected. "It's been a rough few days."

"True. I'd be upset if I almost burned to death."

Something Finnigan had said sounded in the back of his mind once more. "Wait…what did…what did he mean when he said that you ran into a burning building? When he said you were an idiot?"

She blinked. "Hadn't you figured that out yet? I'm the one who saved you that day."

The full implication of her statement hit him like bricks.

She smirked, before turning to the door. "So there you go, Malfoy. Guess you owe me something now."

Oh Princess, he thought, as she left him alone once again.

More than you know.

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	9. Walls

**A shorter chapter today. If any of you read FHIW, you'll know that I like doing preparation chapters. This is one of those. I'll update soon, I promise.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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"You went and talked to Malfoy?"

Hermione sighed, running her hand through her hair in preparation for the same argument. She was in the kitchen with the rest of the Order currently staying at Headquarters. She, Lupin and Tonks were sitting. Harry, Ron and Seamus were all standing.

At the moment, Hermione's eyes were fixed on the three boys who for some reason, could not let her be.

"I did," she responded, taking deep, measured breaths. "We had a very civil conversation."

"Do you know," Ron said, his voice shaking. "How absolutely stupid that was?"

She blinked several times. "Oh, I didn't. That's why you're here, right Ron? To tell me how fucking stupid I am."

He made some sort of move towards her before Harry grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Hermione," the latter said, pushing his black hair out of his face and sighing. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that maybe I should talk to the person who is being offered asylum here," she snapped, drumming her fingers impatiently on the kitchen table. "Did you honestly think I'd never speak to the man?"

"Why would there be any reason for you to?" Seamus demanded, crossing his arms.

"I don't know, maybe because we LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE."

"You are all arguing in circles," Tonks intercepted, her hair changing from pink to red in agitation. "Draco is, at the moment, under asylum at Headquarters. As one of the permanent residents of this building, it is likely that Hermione is going to interact with him."

"That's true," Lupin added on. "Frankly, the three of you are treating Hermione like some sort of fragile object that needs safeguarding."

"Thank you," Hermione responded, exasperated. "I don't need you three to act as my bodyguards, especially not against Draco Malfoy."

"Seems that man is all anyone talks about these days," Blaise said, sauntering into the kitchen and joining the conversation. He took a place at the table like it was his own home while pouting at Hermione. "What is it? The hair?"

She chuckled at him while the boys fumed.

"I don't feel comfortable with you around him," Harry said, ignoring Blaise's entry completely.

"Well, that's nice Harry, but I don't give a rat's ass what you're comfortable with."

"God, Hermione, stop being so obnoxious," Ron snarled. "We are just looking out for your best interests."

"In theory, yes," she replied. "But not in any form of reality."

"How is not wanting you near Death Eater scum not looking out for your best interests?"

Hermione sighed, getting tired of fighting the same fight over and over again. Blaise, sensing her discomfort, rose from the table and poured a cup of tea. Placing it in front Hermione, he shot her a look of sympathy. She reached forward and took his hand for a moment in gratitude.

Seamus eyed hers and Blaise's intertwined hands. She could almost feel heat from his burning gaze. Shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny, she took her hand back and turned to the boys.

"A few things," she started, folding her hands in her lap. "He is not death eater scum. He's a deserter."

"Still scum," Harry pointed out.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," she rolled her eyes. "Secondly, I'm a powerful witch who, thanks to this tattoo, has a brand new power source on her side. When you grabbed me the other day, Harry, I burned you off without an ounce of effort or thought. And that was just trying to get my attention. Imagine what this mark would do if someone was trying to harm me."

There was a moment of silence.

"I think it's protecting me," she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. Her eyes fell on the willow tree. "I heard something the other day, whispers in the back of my head…"

"You're hearing voices?" Harry asked, his voice shooting up several octaves in worry. "Hermione, you know what happens when you start…"

"This isn't Tom Riddle's Diary," she interrupted. "It's something else."

"How could you possibly know that?" Ron asked. "We know shit all about it."

She paused and glanced once again at the maroon mark. "I just do. It's a gut feeling."

"What were you saying about the whispers?" Tonks asked, pulling the conversation back on course.

"After Malfoy was brought back here," she continued, talking more to the Auror than anyone else. "I heard a voice at the back of my head saying _the bloodline must survive_. And when it burned me at dinner the other day, I heard _bring her back where she belongs_. I don't know why I'm hearing these things, but it means something. This mark, this bloody mark keeps protecting me. Fred was right, I should not have survived saving Malfoy."

"And yet you went into that damn building anyway," Seamus muttered.

"But I did survive," she continued, ignoring him. "This mark wants me to live. And if it can protect me against a room of flames, then I'm not sure what Malfoy could do to me."

"I think we should put time into finding out what the mark is," Lupin stated, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I don't think we can simply ignore it."

"It's not letting me ignore it," Hermione agreed. "It wants me to know something, I…I think it wants me to understand."

"You're talking about it like the bloody tattoo has feelings," Seamus snapped.

"Maybe it does," she responded. "It's different…it's important, it has to be."

Lupin leaned back in his chair. "The Black Library is one of the most extensive personal collections in England, with volumes dating back hundreds of years. I'm sure the answer is in there somewhere."

"I'm going to start spending all my non-mission time in there," Hermione stated. "I'll figure it out. I always do."

"Hermione Granger, smart with the books and absolutely nothing else," Ron muttered.

The burning cord inside of her snapped. "You know Ronald," she started, eyes flaring in his direction. "For someone who isn't even going to be living here next week, you care a lot about what the living situation is going to be here next week."

An uncomfortable moment of silence followed as her statement hit everyone at the table.

Lupin was the first to speak. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The vindictive and petty side of Hermione seemed to stamp out the rational. She turned to Harry and smirked. "Want to tell everyone about your choice to leave?"

Lupin's eyes shot to the boys. "You're leaving?"

Harry stuttered his response. "We…we were going to talk about it at dinner tomorrow, when everyone was here."

"Sucks when things don't work out the way you want, huh Harry?" Hermione muttered.

Lupin was gaping. "What could possibly drive you to leave?"

Harry's eyes were downcast. "Dumbledore left us a task…"

"The task that no one has seemed to mention in years?" Lupin asked. He looked around. "The task that he left you, Ron and Hermione?"

"Not me," she piped in. "I was exiled from the task."

"By who?" Lupin asked, flabbergast.

She turned her eyes back to the boys. "By my prison guards."

She stood up and walked over to face the boys directly.

"It seems you got what you wanted," she said, trying to stop her body from shaking. "I get locked up with the books while the dangerous duo goes on adventures."

Harry sighed. "Hermione, you know that is not why…"

"The only thing that makes me feel better," she interrupted, speaking over the ones who always spoke over her. "Is that you get to live with the knowledge that you are just giving me an opportunity to spend all my time with Draco Malfoy."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Don't you fucking dare…"

"Too dangerous for me here, too dangerous for me out there," Hermione said, shrugging and shaking. "You can't have it both ways, boys."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, taking the stairs two at a time. Once she reached the third floor, she had nowhere else to go. She headed into one of the spare bathrooms, slamming the door behind her.

"Calm down, Hermione," she muttered to herself, grasping the sink. Energy was pulsing through her body, through her blood and veins. Her hands gripped the edge of the basin like lifelines. She glanced down.

Red light was emanating from her fingertips. "What in hell…" she whispered, shaking.

Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door.

"Hermione, open the bloody door!" a voice called.

"It's fucking unlocked, Seamus," she shouted back, focused on her hands.

The Irishman opened the door and stormed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He turned to face her, anger dissipating immediately once he realized the situation. His eyes widened in concern at her expression. "Are you alright?"

She was still shaking. "There's too much energy."

"You're fingers are red," he whispered.

"I know, Seamus, I fucking know okay?" she snarled, turning her back on him, and grasping the windowsill, trying to quell the nervous tremors that were racking through her body.

"You need to calm down," he said, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. The human contact sent a shock through her veins.

"No," she muttered, shaking her head. "What I _need_ is to get the energy out, it's burning me, it's fucking burning me, Seamus…"

She could feel his breath on her neck. "Just breath, you can get through this."

"I'm fucking angry with you," she breathed, trying to stop the shaking.

"I know, and we'll talk about it after you're okay," he whispered.

"No…no we won't," she replied, turning on him. Magic was rippling off her in droves. "How are you calm right now? You're mad at me, you think I'm being dumb. You've been fighting me for days!"

Seamus nodded, running his hand through his hair. "I…I just want you safe."

"But you're angry," she shot back.

"Of course I'm angry," he stated. "But I don't hate you."

Sparks flew out of her fingertips. "Why are you choosing this moment to be nice? You've been on my case for over a week."

"You're having a rough night, I thought with Ron and Harry leaving…"

"Don't fucking talk to me about that," she snarled. "God, Seamus, why would you bring that up right now?"

"I thought you might need to talk about it."

"If you honestly think," Hermione started, feelings tears at the corners of her eyes, and fire at her fingertips. "That I need to talk about that at this exact moment, then I don't think you know what I need at all, Seamus."

"Then tell me what you need, Hermione!" he shouted, almost desperately.

"That's the thing," she said, shaking more and more with each moment. "We've been together for a year and a half…"

"Is that what we are? Together?"

"You sure as hell have been acting like it recently," she shot back. "My protector boyfriend, jumping to my rescue at all moments."

"I care about you, you know that."

"And I care about you," she replied. "But this…this thing…whatever we're doing…recently, it's changed. I'm not sure…"

"Not sure about what?" he asked, fear evident in his voice.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her shaking figure. "I'm not sure if you're what I need."

Her answer sent him staggering back. "You can't…you can't be serious right now."

A shot of energy went through her head, causing her to cry out in pain.

"Hermione?" Seamus demanded, stepping forward. "Goddamn it, just tell me what you need!"

She panted, forcing herself to stand up straight. "I need to get the energy out."

He reached up to cup her face. "How?"

Another pulse went through her. "Fuck this," she muttered, before latching her lips onto Seamus's and pushing him against the door.

"Hermione?" he panted, as she moved her lips downwards and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"This," she whispered, feelings the sparks shoot out from her fingertips. "This is what I need right now."

He pulled her face up to meet his. "Happy to oblige," he muttered.

A while later, the two lay panting on the bathroom floor, her head in his lap and his fingers stroking her hair. The energy was gone, her blood wasn't pounding, but her head hurt more than it had in a very long time.

"Hermione?" Seamus asked.

"Yes?"

"What did you mean earlier, when you said you weren't sure about…this?"

She sighed, and forced herself to stand up, finding her various articles of clothing and throwing them on.

"I don't know, Seamus," she said, before stepping over him and out of the room. "I just don't know anymore."

In the next room over, Draco Malfoy rolled over in his bed, wincing at the pain the movement caused.

The walls at Headquarters were very thin indeed.

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	10. Calms

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* * *

The sun streaming through the open window woke her up. Blinking her way back into consciousness, she realized her head was lying on top of a book. Surrounded by stacks and volumes, her location was obvious.

Stretching her neck, Hermione sat up. Had she really fallen asleep? Surely she hadn't been working that late…

Yet she had. The sunrise painting the sky was evidence enough. After her interaction with Seamus the day before, she had immediately gone to the library, skipping dinner to research the mark.

After hours of nothing, she must've passed out. The book she had slept on was called _Original Symbols of the Wizarding Age_.

It had been a good pillow, if nothing else.

She sighed and leaned back in the chair, pushing her hair out of her face. It had to be here somewhere, she thought to herself. Something this powerful had to have been recorded once, by someone…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door to the library swinging open. Glancing up, she saw Fred. The man looked exhausted; huge bags under his eyes complimented his disheveled hair.

She raised an eyebrow. "You alright, Fred?"

He nodded, taking a few steps into the room and sitting across from her. "Just an overnight transportation mission."

"Transportation mission?" Hermione asked, tilting her head. "I haven't heard of a transportation mission since last summer. When was the last time someone had a non-combative mission anyway?"

"I don't know," Fred sighed. "Missions have been slowing down the past few weeks. Less attacks, less disappearances. If I didn't know better, I'd say we weren't in a war at all."

"I had noticed that," Hermione replied. "Bit of a relief after the hell we were in before."

He shook his head. "This is far worse. It's a façade of peace, or break or whatever. It's not real. We _are_ in a war."

"Then why do you think things are slowing down?" she asked, closing the book in front of her and resting her elbows on it.

Fred shrugged. "I have no idea. But I'm pretty fucking worried about it."

"I have too many things to be worried about," Hermione muttered. "I don't have space in my brain to worry about the missions slowing down."

"Too busy with your protector boyfriends," Fred piped up.

Her eyes darted up. "Who told you about that?"

"Tonks," he answered. "In a rant. She's pretty angry at them."

"It's juvenile," Hermione said. "We're all Order members. We are all trained and qualified. They're all treating me like a breakable item."

"You are breakable," Fred pointed out.

"We're all breakable," she snarled. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "We're human and mortal. That's a part of life. But we're in a war, and risks have to be taken."

"The worst thing is," Fred interrupted, leaning forward. "Talking to Draco Malfoy isn't that much of a risk."

"Thank you," she muttered, shaking her head. "I was referring more to Ron and Harry leaving without me, but the Malfoy thing is ridiculous."

"Oh yeah," Fred said, glancing at her. "Tonks said they were heading out today."

"The two best friends, saving the world all on their own," she said, shaking her head. She raised her eyes to meet Fred's. "It's not that I think leaving for the task is a bad idea. I don't. In fact, I was the one pushing for them to do something. I just think that Harry's living in fifth year. He has to do everything himself. He won't let anyone in, except of course, Ron. He's living a teenage fantasy of being able to solve everything with his best friend."

"Everyone knows you're the brain of the group," Fred said. "They won't be able to get very far without you there."

"It's always been me, you know?" she whispered. "I mean, it was always me figuring things out and letting them have the glory. I figured out what the monster was in the Chamber of Secrets. I figured out that Lupin was a werewolf. I trained Harry for the third task. I'm just so incredibly tired of doing the work and not getting any respect or credit. Not that I need them to validate my abilities, but it's frustrating to work and work and get pushed aside."

She took a deep breath. "Sorry, I know this doesn't really matter right now."

Fred shook his head. "It's probably not the most important thing in the middle of a war, but it's your emotions. Your emotions have validity. You have validity."

She offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Fred."

He stood up and walked around the table to offer her a hug. He leaned down and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Hermione Granger, these are tough times, and they are not bringing out the best in any of those boys. They care about you, but they are not acting with any form of respect."

"They have reasons," she sighed. "But their wells are running dry."

She could feel Fred's cheek. "They'll figure out how moronic they're acting when you inevitably save all of their asses."

She chuckled bleakly. "Inevitably?"

"Hermione Granger, there are only a few things that are certain. Harry's hair is going to look stupid, Ron is going to act stupid, and you are going to figure it all out with a stupid amount of time left. Those are the cornerstones of my life philosophy. Don't ruin it."

* * *

She took deep breaths as she ascended the stairs. Morgana, she didn't want to do this, but knew she would regret it fully if she didn't.

She reached the room and knocked twice.

Harry opened the door.

"Hey," she breathed, looking over his shoulder to see Ron paused half-way through packing a rucksack. She turned her eyes back to Harry. "Can I come in?"

He nodded at her. She stepped through the doorway and shut it behind her. She turned to her two best friends.

"I wish that this wasn't happening the way it is," she admitted, looking down. "I wish I was packing with you guys. I'm not here to argue about it anymore, so don't get angry."

"But, I hope you remember that we aren't at Hogwarts anymore. This isn't a fun adventure or new task to discover. This is life or death. I know you two don't want me to go because you care about my safety. Well, I care about you two just as much. Please, promise me that you'll think things through and not take any unnecessary risks."

Ron sighed. "Hermione, we're not stupid..."

"We promise," Harry interrupted, shooting the redhead a silencing look.

"Good," Hermione said. She looked up and finally met Harry's eyes. "You two are the only ones with the power to stop this war. Take care of yourselves. We're all depending on you now."

Harry strode forward without warning and wrapped his arms around her. After a moment's hesitation, she hugged him back like it was their last meeting.

For all she knew, it might've been.

"I'm sorry about how we've been acting," Harry whispered. "We just…"

"I don't want to hear it," she cut across him. "Just go do your task, and come back. That's what needs to happen now."

Harry let her go. She looked over his shoulder to meet Ron's eyes.

"I'm not going to blink first," she stated.

A smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "Alright then." He walked forward and gave her a hug.

"Take care of yourselves," she whispered into his neck and she held him close.

"Right back at you, Willow Tree," Ron said. "Figure that shit out."

She chuckled. "You know me. Figuring shit out is my specialty."

They stepped back. For a few moments, they just observed each other.

"Something of Ravenclaw's, the cup, the snake," Hermione said. "Good luck. I hope to see you on the other side of this darkness."

Harry smiled at her comment. "Oh, 'Mione, I won't be seeing you on the other side."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, eyes looking down. "There is no light at the end of the tunnel. There is light in the tunnel, at least there is when we're together. There's light in you, and no war can destroy that."

* * *

Curled up in front of the fireplace in the kitchen, she drank her tea slowly. It was that night. Harry and Ron had left hours ago, disappearing into the world to end a war.

A war that seemed to be dying on its own.

Fred was right about the missions. They had been slowing down for weeks. The other side was stopping attacks. There were less murders, less disappearances.

Something was off. The world she had been stuck in for years had shifted, and shifted drastically. A transportation mission? A month ago, no one could be spared for something so menial with catastrophes all around.

She didn't trust it, not for a second. If they were slowing down, it just meant they were planning something, or waiting for something.

Something had changed to put them in this period of calm.

The calm before the storm.

She was brought out of her reverie by sounds of movement behind her. She turned her head around the side of the chair only to be surprised.

"Malfoy?"

Sure enough, the blonde was standing in the middle of the kitchen, dressed in a dark t-shirt and pajamas. Looking much better than the last time they had interacted, his burns were nearly all gone, and any other evidence of the fire was disappearing as well. Brushing his hair out of his face, he nodded in her direction. "Princess."

She gaped. "What are you doing down here?"

He shrugged. "Just came for a casual stroll." He walked over to where she was sitting and gestured to the empty armchair. "This seat taken?"

"I guess not," she replied, unsure of what else to say.

He smirked and slid into the seat.

"How'd you get out?" Hermione asked, sipping her tea.

"Get out?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't have to escape. Your fearless leader took off the handcuffs, deemed me healthy enough to walk around. He doesn't think I'm going to do anything after he so graciously offered me asylum."

"Are you going to do anything?"

He shot her a look. "What could I possibly do?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Steal secrets?"

"Steal secrets for who?" he replied sharply. "In case you forgot, bookworm, I no longer have a side."

"Maybe not officially, but I'm sure you do mentally."

He tilted his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She stared at the flames. "They marked you up for not murdering that girl. Branded you as a deserter. But it's not like you actively left. You got kicked out. Just because you are no longer part of the organization doesn't mean you know longer agree with them, or hold the same ideology."

There was a moment of silence. "Are you asking me whether or not I'm still a death eater at heart?"

Another beat. "I suppose I am."

"Merlin, bookworm," he breathed, chuckling slightly. "You don't give a guy a break, do you? I almost died last week, can't you wait before hitting me with the questions about my beliefs and philosophies?"

She gave him a sideways glance. "That's not an answer."

He paused, mouth half open. "I don't support anyone who orders a father to torture his son."

She didn't have an answer to that.

The firelight flickered through the room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Her eyes traced the outline of Malfoy's face, distorted against the wall.

"Heard your boys leave today," the Slytherin said, breaking the silence. "Not going to be around for a while, are they?"

"Please," she scoffed. "I doubt you care about what Harry and Ron do."

"No, I really don't," he answered bluntly. "But I am curious."

"I'm not telling you what they're doing," she muttered, clutching her cup closer to her body.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Good, because I don't give a damn."

She sat up straighter. "That's rich, Malfoy. We're in a war. Regardless of where your allegiance lies, I'm sure you care what each side is up to."

"Of course," he answered. "But, frankly, Potter and Weaselbee could explode all of London and it wouldn't interest me. They are uninteresting."

"Interest is a bit of a luxury in a war."

"Everything's a luxury in war," he answered. "Even this conversation. Human contact is growing scarce, have you noticed bookworm? Doubt you would be talking to me otherwise."

She shook off his statement, ignoring the odd sensation their talk was causing. "What do you care about then, if not what they're doing?"

Malfoy leaned towards her before answering. It was such a microscopic difference that she shouldn't have noticed, and yet, she did.

"I care, Miss Bookworm, that they didn't bring you along."

She couldn't help the short laugh that burst from her mouth. "Oh that's rich, Malfoy. Does that mean you care about me? I'm honoured."

"I would be honoured as well," he answered, the firelight dancing in his eyes. "But no. I care because it's interesting. I find it interesting that after almost a decade of friendship, Scarhead prances into the big, bad world without the only competent member of his band."

Strangely, she felt complimented by his statement. "They think it's too dangerous."

"Life is too dangerous," he responded, rolling his eyes. "That's such a classic Potter move. He has to be the knight in shining armor for the females in his life. I would be offended if it were me."

"I am offended," she responded. "But, there are more important things to care about right now. I have my own things to work on here."

"Like that mark on your arm?" he asked.

His question shifted the mood of the room. Her eyes moved to his very slowly.

"What are you talking about?" she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

He pointed at the willow. "The tree. Besides the fact that you've been cradling it this entire conversation, the walls are really fucking thin in the goddamn building. It's all anyone's been talking about. Hermione Granger and the mysterious tattoo. Sounds like a book title."

"It is a mystery," she responded, cradling the tattoo out of his line of sight. "It showed up a few weeks ago, and has done nothing but offer me confusion and occasional blackout pain."

"And power," Malfoy said softly, his eyes turning back to the fire.

"Pardon?" she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

"Power," he said again, turning back to face her. "I had the…uh…unfortunate pleasure of overhearing an interaction between you and the Irish the other day. Thin walls, you know."

She felt her cheeks heat up. "You heard that?"

He smirked at her discomfort. "I did, indeed. And besides the interesting concept of you shagging Finnigan, I did understand that that mark was offering you energy. Energy you had to spend somehow."

"I'm sorry you overheard," she muttered, trying to keep her mind in the presence.

"You're a powerful witch, bookworm," Malfoy said. "I wonder how much more a little mark can give you."

"You'd be surprised," she answered, unsure as to why she was being so open. "I don't even know my limits anymore."

"You can't know your limits without testing them," he replied before giving her a smirk. "Finnigan not pushing you enough?"

"Don't be vulgar, Malfoy," she muttered, glancing down, ignoring the sinking reality of his statement.

"And yet," he smiled. "No answer."

She sighed. "Seamus is great, he really is. But, he's not…he's just…well…"

Malfoy eyed her with something she didn't quite recognize. "He's not what you need."

She paused. "No. He's not what I need."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair and glanced at the fire. "What do you need then, Princess?"

Hermione felt as though she had fallen down a rabbit hole. Disoriented, unsure of her surroundings, she felt dazed and confused. "I…I don't know."

"I do," he replied, his grey eyes flashing over to meet her green eyes.

"Do tell, Malfoy. I'd love to hear this."

He paused for a moment before answering. "You need more. You need something more."

"More than what?" she asked, her heart suddenly beginning to stutter irregularly.

He smirked. "More than ordinary. More than simple. More than regular, or natural. You need something difficult, something to work for, and something worth it. You need someone who's worth it."

She felt as if the world was spinning around her. Her mark was tingling slightly. "How could you possibly know what I need?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm full of shit. But something tells me that what I just said is resonating inside that pretty little head of yours."

She had no response.

He looked at her for a few more moments. "I've decided something, bookworm."

"And what is that?"

He turned his gaze back to the fireplace.

"I like the green eyes."

* * *

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	11. Transfers

**Almost 400 followers!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

The world kept spinning without Harry and Ron in her life. The sun still burned, the wind still blew, and the war went on.

Hermione was surprised at herself for expecting anything else.

"I don't know what I thought was going to happen," she admitted to Fred during a late night in the library, about a week after the boys had left. "I guess I just thought I'd… I don't know…notice?"

"Oof," Fred responded, leaning back in his chair and flipping through a volume. "Vicious."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant. Of course I noticed. It just wasn't life-altering. I guess I expected it to be."

"You'd think it would be," he answered, glancing over the top of _Magical Symbolism and Theology_. "Those two have been glued to your side since the age of eleven."

"Not every moment, but essentially," she responded, tucking her feet under her in the chair. "The difference now is I know I can't have them, even if I wanted them."

"You say it like you don't want them here."

"I don't," she said, quietly. "I want them doing their task. Of course, I wish I was with them, but I have things to do too. And the past few months have not brought out the best in us."

He chuckled. "It's a war, Hermione. It's not going to bring out the best in anyone."

She ignored his comment. "I need to figure out my own stuff before I can think about the three of us. I have my own missions. Starting with this goddamn mark."

"Well, that seems to be the mystery of the year, don't it?" Fred replied, shutting the volume and putting it on the table with what felt like hundreds of other worthless books. "There's nothing about it anywhere."

"I've done nothing but look through this library all week," she muttered angrily.

"Really?" Fred asked, a glint of humour in his eye. "That's it?"

She gave him a look. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

He pursed his lips. "I've just noticed you talking to our favourite house guest several times."

"Malfoy?"

"That's the one," Fred responded. "Didn't know that you enjoyed tea dates with serpents."

"Didn't know you noticed," she muttered, casting her eyes downwards.

"Of course I noticed, 'Mione," Fred replied. "I think everyone who lives in this house has noticed."

"Everyone?" she asked, looking up.

He meant her eyes head on. "Everyone."

An uncomfortable feeling filled her chest. "It's not a big deal. We just often happen to be in the kitchen at the same time."

"What's important about that, 'Mione," Fred continued, casually opening another book. "Is not that you are in the kitchen at the same time, but that you don't leave."

Hermione didn't have much of a response to that. "No, I don't."

He opened the cover. "Any particular reason for that?"

She felt her defenses going up. Her mark began to tingle. "Any particular reason you're asking?"

He shrugged. "Curiosity. Don't worry, 'Mione."

"Why would I be worried?" she asked, flinching slightly.

"I honestly don't know," Fred said, looking her over. "But you're as white as a sheet and you're shaking. I'm not Seamus, I'm not going to get mad."

She hadn't noticed her reaction.

The energy in her body was all centered on her mark. It was as if her blood at drained from her limps and was just bubbling beneath the willow tree. She was light-headed, unable to move, and unsure of what was happening.

"Hermione?" Fred asked worriedly, leaning forward. "You alright there?"

She reached across her body and grasped her left forearm, trying to stop the shaking. Her willow tree was black again. It almost seemed to be shimmering against her skin.

Waves of disorientation swept over her. "Fred…go get someone…"

"Right away, ma'am," he said, jumping up from his seat and bursting through the library door.

Hermione leaned over the table and grasped the edges. Why was this happening? What was happening to her?

She took several breaths in, trying to focus her energy away from the mark.

Outside the door, she heard a commotion.

"What the hell is going on, Weasley?"

"It's Hermione…is anyone else up?"

"Everyone is gone, remember?"

"Fuck, report night. Shit."

"What's happening?"

"Well, Malfoy, an opportunity for you to prove yourself just revealed itself."

The door to the library burst open and Fred stormed in with Malfoy.

The Slytherin looked confused, dressed in his pyjamas and carrying a cup of tea. The moment he spotted Hermione he put the mug down.

"It's the mark, isn't it?" Malfoy asked Fred, his voice giving nothing away.

The twin nodded. "She's been having attacks like this since it appeared."

Hermione forced her eyes shut as she felt herself blacking out. "Could you two stop talking and help?"

The shimmering sensation had spread to her entire body. Sparks of energy were boiling over her skin. She hissed at the feeling, blinking in and out of understanding.

Suddenly, she felt hands touch her arm, just above the mark. Smooth and careful, fingers dotted their way down her limb.

"Okay, bookworm," Malfoy whispered, his voice trickling into her ears. "You're going to have to listen to me very carefully."

"For fuck's sake Malfoy," she muttered, twitching uncomfortably.

She swear she could almost _feel_ him smirk.

"You have too much energy in your system," he said, applying pressure with his fingers. "All funneling itself into this tiny mark."

She groaned at the feeling his hands were causing. Strange, unnatural, foreign, yet familiar. They were reacting with her skin in odd ways.

"This much energy will burn you up," he continued, his voice wavering slightly. "You need to get it out of your system, safely. Unlike what you did last time."

"Malfoy," she growled, feeling some colour return to her cheeks as she blushed.

"That was chaotic," he whispered, as if she was the only one who should hear. "You don't need any more chaos in a world created of nothing but. You need calm. You need to focus."

"Just tell me what to do," she spat out, as the shaking escalated.

"First, breath," he said.

"Fuck, I must've forgotten."

"Funny," he replied, sarcastically. "But focus, and don't get mad."

"Why would I possibly get…" Her response was cut off by the feeling of Malfoy pushing her chair back from the table and pulling her towards him, so that she was sitting on the edge and he was kneeling right in front of her.

"Focus," he whispered, taking one of her hands and putting it on his cheek. He grasped her other hand, and with his right one, he pulled their chests together, resting his fingers on her lower back.

The movement sent sensations through her mark that were unfamiliar. The dull burn was different from the flames of past experience. Gentle and confusing. Unsure of what was happening, she focused her energy on her hands

"Transfer it," he breathed into her ear, sending shivers through her already shaking body.

"What?" she whispered back. God, why was he so close?

"The energy," he answered. "Give me some. Get it out."

His request confused her initially, but her body responded before she could. She leaned up into him, and grasped her hands on his skin fiercely. Her eyes burst open, in the first moment of total clarity since the attack started.

She met Malfoy's eyes, inches away from her own. He was staring down at her.

"Do it," he whispered.

His voice commanded her. Taking a deep breath, she focused all her energy on the spots where they were touching. She breathed out.

The energy left her in an endless wave. She felt it move from her to Malfoy through their connection. Golden light streamed between the two of them. As she gave herself over to it, as she gave herself over to _him_ , she came back to herself. Her heart felt alive again, her blood was flowing properly through her veins. The magic in her felt natural, not on overload or excessive.

She met Malfoy's eyes again. Her hand on his cheek was emitting the same gold light. The reflection of it danced in his eyes.

When she felt her heartbeat return to normal, she stopped the transfer. The moment the light disappeared, she collapsed forward.

Malfoy caught her effortlessly, cradling her neck, and wrapping his hand around her waist.

"Good job, princess," he whispered, as he lifted her up back onto the chair.

As she sat back down, she took her hands back from Malfoy's body. At the separation of contact, little shocks shimmered across her palms. She tucked them into her lap, feeling strange.

"How're you doing?" he asked her, running his fingers down her left forearm towards the mark. As his fingers grazed the willow, a tidal wave of electricity pulsed through her body.

"Better," she said, forcing her body to stay still under his touch. She looked up to meet his eyes. "And you?"

"I'm fine," he shrugged, smirking slightly. "I'm going to be a bit jittery with all this energy in my body, but I'm sure I can spend it somehow."

"Yes," she breathed out, as her heartbeat sped up again. "Jeez, what just happened?"

"There's something odd about that little mark of yours, bookworm," he said, breathing quickly. She could see his chest rising and falling quickly. "It overloaded your power, again. That's why you were shaking."

"I figured," she muttered. "Why does it keep doing that?"

"Why you keep doing that, you mean," he said, leaning against the table. "That mark is a part of you now."

"I'm not the one overloading my power," she answered.

He shrugged. "Maybe not consciously. But something, somewhere in that pretty little head of you is a switch. And the world keeps switching it on. What was the catalyst?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, brushing her hair back.

"What caused the reaction today?" he asked, glancing from her to Fred. Hermione had nearly forgotten he was in the room.

"We were just talking about…things," Fred said, his eyes darting to her quickly before looking back at Malfoy. The twin was practically gaping.

Hermione shrugged, trying to remain calm. "I can't figure out why this keeps happening, but it does."

"You should probably get on that," Malfoy said, chuckling. "You're not always going to have a boy at your disposal to take your energy away."

She stared him down, even as she felt her cheeks heat up.

"Thank you for helping," she said, trying to keep her reactions in check.

He shrugged. "That was all you, princess. I was just the commentator." Malfoy smiled at her once, nodded at Fred, and picked up his tea from where it still rested on the table. "Take care of yourself, princess. You're the only who can." With that, he left the room.

There was several minutes of pure silence as Fred and Hermione sat with their thoughts. After a fair amount of time had passed, the twin turned to her.

"What just happened?" he demanded.

She pursed her lips. "I'm not quite sure."

"What the hell is with you and Malfoy?"

She stared him down. "Nothing, Fred."

"Oh, come on," Fred burst out. "The two of you just had a magic transfer. You know how intimate, emotional, and frankly, slightly erotic experience that is…"

"I know what a magic transfer does," she whispered, clutching her arms around herself protectively. "I know how it bonds the two participants."

"Bond?" Fred said, disbelief evident in his voice. "Bit of an understatement. You just shared your magic with _Draco fucking Malfoy_. There's a part of you, the most primal, natural part of you, that's running through his veins right this fucking second. That's not a bonding moment, that's…that's…

"Tying," she whispered. Fred looked at her. She breathed out. "We're tied, Malfoy and I. Magic transfers aren't every day, run of the mill things. This…this changes things."

"Why did he do it?" Fred asked, sitting down at the table. "He obviously knows what magic transfers do."

"It was the only way to get the energy out," she replied, shaking slightly at the memory.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. "Why did you let him?"

"What?" she asked.

"Magic transfers require two equally willing participants. Otherwise…it's something else entirely. You were willing. Why? Why would you give yourself over to Malfoy like that?"

Hermione stuttered her response. "I…I don't know."

Fred sighed. "Which brings us back to the original question of the night. Any particular reason that you and Malfoy seem to be a little bit..uh…connected?"

She pursed her lips. "I…I just enjoy talking to him. He's…he's real."

"Shit Hermione, we're all real."

She shook his head. "No, it's more than that. He…he's seen sides of this war we haven't. Two sides of a coin, you know? And it's… I don't know, it's hard to explain."

Fred gave her a look. "No it's not. You just don't particularly feel like sharing. Which is fine, but don't pretend. Wastes time."

She flushed.

"Don't tell anyone about the magic transfer," Fred said suddenly. "It's like an unbreakable vow; not something to dump on someone. Especially the fact that's it the two of you, merlin, even my abilities can't figure this one out."

"I wasn't going to," Hermione said, breathing deeply. "I couldn't imagine the reactions." An image of Seamus flashed through her head.

"It is Malfoy," Fred said. "But shit, 'Mione."

She looked up. "What?"

His face was full of distress. "After what the bastard just did for you, I think I'm going to _have_ to give him a second chance."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips.

* * *

He could _feel_ her, pulsing through his veins. He forced himself to walk calmly back through the halls to his room. After closing the door behind him and putting down his tea, he collapsed with his back against the wall.

A magic transfer. He and Hermione le Fay had done a magic transfer. One of the most powerful connections in the magical universe, and he had done it with the Pureblood Princess.

She had gotten under his skin in every sense of the word. She was in his blood. Her power, and merlin, was it powerful.

He was sweating.

Merlin, this fucking woman.

Why the fuck had he decided to solve this situation with a magic transfer? He knew what they meant. This was serious. This was permanent. Even once he worked through the extra energy, she was a part of him now.

Mother fucker.

Seeing her like that, bent over, white, shaking, _weak_ , it was wrong. She was powerful. She was strong. She was the pureblood princess. He wasn't thinking when he did the transfer. He just wanted her to be better, and taking her burden seemed like the fastest option.

The feel of her under his hands. Her skin, her body, pulsating with energy, with raw, unadulterated power.

His head fell into his hands.

That power.

Mother of God, he could feel her still, pulsing through him.

Strangely, he didn't seem to mind.

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	12. Eyes

**I hit 400 followers last chapter. :D I have never had a story get this much reception this quickly before. It's quite exciting, and I'm not sure how to feel, writing for a bigger audience at such an early point in what will be a long, long story, but I'm really excited none the less. :D**

 **Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter, but I felt like this scene needed to be a chapter on its own.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

She walked into the kitchen with Fred the next morning, breathing deeply. Sensing her discomfort, Fred gave her a quick hug.

Seamus, Tonks, Blaise and Lupin were all standing around the kitchen table, discussing the report mission from the night before. They had met with high level Order members at Shell cottage to explain the situation with Blaise and Malfoy.

Given their exhausted expressions, she knew they had only just gotten back.

Lupin looked up at their entrance, his eyes bloodshot and blinking. "Good morning, you two. We hope you held the fort while we were gone."

At his words, the others looked up to greet them. Tonks waved, Blaise tipped an imaginary hat, but Seamus just stared. Hermione met his eyes and for a moment, recognized him.

But the pre-war Seamus disappeared the second she looked harder.

"Basically," Fred said, replying to Lupin's question. The two Gryffindors walked forward as Hermione wished desperately to stay behind. "How was the report?"

Lupin shrugged, brushing his limp hair out of his face. "Fine. We only do these things to keep track of everything and to make sure that everyone knows what they need to."

Fred chuckled at this and give Hermione a side glance. "While, speaking of needing to know things…"

Hermione cut across him, sighing. She knew she had to be the one to tell Lupin about the energy attack. "We had a slight incident last night."

As soon as she spoke, Seamus eyes darted to her. She knew those eyes. She had seen those eyes when Dean didn't make it back to Headquarters. The eyes she had cried over. The eyes that she wished, more than anything, that he didn't have to wear ever again.

"What happened?" He asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Before Hermione had a chance to reply, Fred jumped in. "Everyone's favourite mystery tattoo had a…uh… little temper tantrum."

Lupin's eyes flashed to Hermione, as their leader stood up fully. "What happened?"

She tried to brush it off, avoiding her old professor's eyes. "Same thing as before, overdose of power and energy. I just got really drained afterwards."

"What do you mean you got really drained?" Lupin demanded, leaning forward a tad. "Don't underplay it, Hermione. We're past that point by now."

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, she felt shivers down her spine. Her body tensed under the little dancing sparks. Her breath caught in her throat.

Before he even spoke, she knew he was there.

"She was white, pale, shaking, and unable to move," Malfoy said, as he sauntered into the room. The others stared at the newcomer in shock, but he kept talking. "She was blinking in and out of awareness."

Hermione kept her eyes focused forward, trying desperately to be unaware of his presence. It was like trying to ignore the sun in July.

Pointless, and it blinds you anyway.

Lupin stood in shock at Malfoy's intrusion for several seconds before turning to Hermione. "Is that true?"

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

"How did you fix it?"

An awkward silence filled the room. Fred and Hermione exchanged short glances, as Malfoy continued to stare forward at the other members of the Order. Eventually however, he was the one to answer.

"An hour of deep breathing."

Hermione's eyes snapped to him, almost in disbelief. He…he was lying. He wasn't telling anyone about the magic transfer either. With her heart hammering, she turned back to Lupin.

"Fred and Malfoy walked me through it," she said, fabricating just as Malfoy had. "After enough time, the energy disappeared."

The lie slid off her tongue easily, as if she wasn't speaking at all. She felt Malfoy approach her from his position near the door. With each step he took, her heart beat a little faster. When he was standing directly beside her, she felt as if she was explode under the pressure.

Lupin's eyes looked between the two of them quickly, as if trying to solve a puzzle that shouldn't exist in the first place. Hermione felt self-conscious under the observation. As if sensing her discomfort, Malfoy took several steps forward as to put himself between the two Order Members.

This did not go unnoticed.

Seamus's eyebrows hit his hairline. "What the fuck were you even doing there, snake?" he growled.

Malfoy didn't even flinch at the aggression. "Weasley was looking for someone to help and I happened to be the only one around. And if I do say so myself I did a pretty good job at helping out, wouldn't you say so, Princess?"

He turned back towards her, their eyes meeting for the first time since the magic transfer. A jolt went through her, almost shaking her very foundation. As she drowned in his silver orbs – who had silver eyes anyway? – she felt herself nod.

"Malfoy helped a ton."

His trademark smirk appeared with a vengeance.

"There we go then."

Fred took this opportunity to step up. "We were able to handle it without you guys here, but, in the spirit of knowing what the hell is going on, we figured it was best to inform you."

Lupin pursed his lips in response. "You can't expect me to nod and brush this aside, do you?"

"I mean," Fred shrugged. "A little bit."

The older man sighed in response. "Sorry, but that's not exactly what we're going to do here."

Blaise took this moment to jump in. Hermione had almost forgotten he was there. "You sure, Lupin? I mean, if meditation can solve this, then how serious can this really be?"

She looked up at his words, pursing her lips. For some reason, what Blaise had said didn't quite sit right with her. She glanced over his features. There was nothing to tip her off that something was wrong. Nothing at all.

However, her mark was tingling as she observed the Slytherin.

And for some reason or another, she trusted it.

Lupin glanced at Blaise. "Sure, if meditation can solve it, that's better than last time when she screamed and almost fainted at dinner. But, what if she's on a mission and hit with one of the attacks? What then?"

Hermione's eyes snapped to her mentor. "What are you saying, Lupin?"

His expression turned weary. "I know you aren't going to like this, but I really don't have much choice in the matter."

She crossed her arms. "What matter?"

"You're a liability in this condition," he replied, his voice suddenly formal, as if the man in front of her had morphed back into her professor, and not her friend. "I cannot have you doing missions with this unknown threat in the air. You put others at risk…you put yourself at risk."

She could do nothing more than stare blankly at him. "You…you can't be serious."

Tonks spoke up. "He's right, 'Mione. What if in the middle of a battle the mark knocked you out? You'd be dead in seconds."

"I…I'm one of your best fighters!" Hermione stuttered, in disbelief at the direction this conversation had taken.

"True," Lupin conceded. "But right now…you're a variable. You're uncertain. The mark has total control over your capabilities as a fighter. And as the leader, I'm not going to put my soldiers, including you, at the mercy of a variable."

She was openly gaping. "Harry and Ron left me behind because they knew you needed me."

"And we still do need you," Lupin said. "You'll be moved to research until we figure it out."

"They left me here to fight."

He pursed his lips, as if in sympathy. "Honestly, Hermione. You know that's not true. They left you here to live."

She was floored by his statement. "You don't know anything about that."

"I'm not an idiot, Hermione," Lupin said, patience wearing thin. "I know how Harry's head works. That boy would damn well sacrifice all of Sweden before putting you in unnecessary danger."

"What qualifies as unnecessary danger in a war?"

"Risk without reward," spoke a quiet voice at her left. She turned to look at Malfoy. He was watching her intensely. "Unnecessary danger is handing your fate to the gods without thought, on the slim hope that somehow, by luck and chance, things will work out in your favour."

"I create my own fate, Malfoy," she spat.

He nodded, keeping his eyes on her. "I don't mean to offend, Princess…"

She snorted. "That's rich, coming from you."

The Slytherin Prince crossed his arms. "You're going to get yourself killed and all your freedom fighters beside you. I know how badly you want to fight, but until you figure that tree out, you are going to have to be out."

"Oh fuck off, Malfoy," she snarled, turning back to Lupin. "Who are you to be looking out for my safety anyway?"

She felt him move towards her, until he was standing just inches away.

"Don't martyr yourself out of anger," he whispered, ignoring the piercing glare of everyone in the room. "Sometimes there is a need for death. But frankly, _Hermione_ , your death has no need whatsoever, and choosing to off yourself and probably others because you're angry is not only a waste, but supremely selfish."

"You're one to talk about being selfish," she spat back, hardly noticing his use of her first name.

He shrugged in concession. "Never said I wasn't. But Hermione Granger shouldn't be. Aren't you supposed to be the selfless one?"

His words hit her like a battering ram. For a moment, she stood very still, eyes trained on the man beside her. He stared back, unblinking.

 _The bloodline must survive_ sounded at the back of her head.

Her mark tingled.

She turned towards Lupin. "I'll do research until we figure this out." The words fell from her lips without conscious thought, as if someone was speaking through her.

The older man's jaw dropped, obviously expecting the fight to last longer. "Are you…really?"

Her eyes jumped from him to where Blaise was observing her. His face was stony and unreadable.

"Yes," she said, mark tingling. She touched it absent-mindedly. "I'm not going to put others in danger."

"Or yourself," Malfoy reminded her, silver eyes piercing. His words drew her gaze back to him.

Everyone's eyes turned to the Slytherin, but the blonde's never left Hermione's.

"Or myself," she replied, feeling the same compulsion to speak as earlier.

Several moments of silence followed this before she spoke again.

"Well, I guess I should go set up shop in the library," she said quietly, ripping her eyes away from Malfoy for the first time. "I have lots of books to go through."

Before waiting for anyone to say something, she left the room.

She felt his gaze follow her out.

* * *

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 **The plot thickens...**


	13. Stars

**In my defense, I've had a wild several months.**

 **I'm not going to apologize based on the six months I've had. Don't ever believe I will give up this story. Never, trust me. We'll get there. It might take a while, but we're get there.**

 **Until then, enjoy this short chapter. I will update with a huge chapter soon. Trust me, I know my set up for the story. We're good. Trust me.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

It took exactly eleven days for Harry and Ron to contact Hermione after leaving.

She was curled up in the library, yawning, flipping through the pages of yet another ancient volume. Outside the small window, the sun was just peeking over the houseline of London. Sunset or sunrise, she didn't know anymore.

The wisp of silver smoke burst through the wall, startling her. Looking up in trepidation, she watched the non-corporeal mist form into a familiar stag.

Harry's voice boomed through the room.

 _Nothing yet. Still looking. We are both safe. We love you._

As the patronus dissolved, she gave a sigh of relief. Obviously, if something had happened to the two of them, the Order would be the first to know. However, not having them in her line of sight after so many years would make anyone nervous.

A knock on the door caused her to jump.

"Yes?" she called tiredly, resting her head on her hand. She blinked several times, trying to fight back her fatigue. When she opened her eyes fully, she was looking at Malfoy.

"What?" she asked, nearly yawning the word. No fight, no sarcasm. Just pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

He observed her for a moment. "You alright there, bookworm?"

She shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "Been better, been worse. Just tired."

He nodded. "Understandable," he said, taking a seat at the table. "You've had a really long week."

She chuckled at his statement. Something she didn't quite recognized appeared on his face. Was that…amusement?

Traces of a smile danced at the corner of his mouth. "Something funny there?"

"It's just that," she chortled, finding the whole situation much funnier than it really was. "A long week, Malfoy? I've had a long three years."

He chuckled in response. "True say. But you have to admit, the last few weeks have been particularly heinous."

She shrugged. "Honestly? Not really. Sure, I've passed out a lot and my head really hurts, but no one's dead."

The casual tone she used shocked her. After the words left her mouth, she stared in silence at Malfoy. His facial expression didn't change. A few seconds later, he nodded at her.

"It's true," he said. "No one's dead."

"It's the little things," she whispered.

"Mhm," he said, staring thoughtfully around the room. They fell into silence once more.

"Is there something you wanted, Malfoy?"

"Yes there was, actually," he said, sitting up fully. "As you are aware, I'm under asylum here."

"Really? I thought you just liked us."

"And when you're under asylum," he continued, ignoring her sarcastic remark. "There is not much to do. So, I am here to offer my services to you."

She raised an eyebrow. "If this is just an attempt to get in my pants, please leave."

The laugh that erupted from Malfoy was not something she had experience before. Seeing the Slytherin fully lose it was, frankly, delightful. The normal scowl that adorned his features turned into something more childlike. Happy. His silver eyes, which normally looked battle-weary and aged, shone.

He wiped a tears from his cheek. "I'm curious as to your experience if when you hear the word 'service' you immediately go there. Is that what Finnigan is? Your service boy?"

The light atmosphere in the room immediately darkened as she narrowed her eyes. "You don't know anything about me and Seamus."

"I know that you don't care about him as more than a friend and someone to fuck when you feel the world falling apart."

The reality of his statement was not news to her, but it still stung. "I care about Seamus."

"And I care about dolphins, but I'm not going to string them along. That's animal abuse."

She raised an eyebrow. "Interesting that someone who owns house elves cares about animal abuse."

"Firstly, Granger," Malfoy started, counting off on his fingers. "My father owns house elves. Secondly, of course I care about animal abuse, I'm not a savage. That is," he dropped his voice and cocked an eyebrow. "Unless you want me to be."

She rolled her eyes. "Not in this lifetime, Malfoy."

He shrugged. "I don't know, weirder things have happened."

She smiled. "You aren't wrong there."

The joking tone that they were using was sending an odd feeling through Hermione. Was… was he flirting with her? Much more importantly…was she flirting back? And even more importantly, why was she flirting with Draco Malfoy in the _middle of a war_?

She twitched at the thought. Of course it didn't go unnoticed.

"Cat got your tongue Granger?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. His expression surprised her. It was playful, forward…flirtatious. For a moment, she understood the girls who had fawned over him at Hogwarts.

She shook off the feeling, and raised her gaze to meet his eyes. "I don't know, Malfoy. Don't you find this weird?"

"I find a lot of things weird, Granger. What in particular this time?"

She chuckled. "I mean…this conversation."

His eyes darted away from her for a moment, before returning with an intensity she had not expected. "I happened to think we were having a very civil chat."

"That's what I mean, Malfoy," she continued, leaning forward a bit. "We're having a civil conversation. The two of us. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin. A mudblood and a pureblood."

He visibly flinched. "Don't call yourself that." He wouldn't meet her eye.

She raised an eyebrow. "Never stopped you before."

He brushed over her dig. "Never mind the past, Granger. It's in the past. We're in the present now."

"And the present is unsustainable," she said, sighing. "This conversation is unsustainable. That's exactly what it is. We're having a civil conversation, yes. I'm enjoying it, yes. But it's unsustainable."

"The civility, you mean?"

"The whole thing," she cried, before taking a deep breath. "This moment exists in a pocket universe, Malfoy. The circumstances that brought us here are balancing on shaking foundations."

"Shaking foundations can steady themselves," he pointed out.

She chuckled. "Not these foundations, Malfoy. It's going to crumble. I don't know when; maybe when the boys get back, maybe when another mission happens and I finally lose it. Maybe when Seamus breaks down that door in aggravation. But this so called civil conversation exists in an alternate reality within our world. It would never happen without all the stars in the universe aligning perfectly to allow us this chance. The chance to really speak, just us, for the first time in our lives, really. No blood status. No war. Just us. Just us and our civil conversation."

He was silent for a moment before responding. "Isn't that a reason to treasure it then?"

"What?" she answered, a little confused at the turn of the conversation.

"Well, Granger," he said, reaching up and running his hand through his blond hair. "If this moment really does exist in a pocket universe, like you're insisting, then it's going to disappear into the atmosphere at any moment. And if it's as unsustainable as you're making it out to be, then I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. You can't look me in the eye and tell me you don't enjoy talking to me."

She paused. "No, I can't."

An unrecognizable emotion washed over his features. "Didn't think so."

She sighed. "So, Malfoy? So what?"

"So, Granger," he smirked. "Live a little. Ride the wave out. If our world is about to fall apart, and the only reason we're here is because the stars aligned, then thank them and enjoy it. Enjoy me."

She couldn't help the laugh that burst forth from her lips. "Enjoy you?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "Again, weirder things have happened."

She smiled. "You're deplorable."

"Deplorable and hot, Granger. It's a good aesthetic."

Green eyes met grey. "Okay, Malfoy. Let's enjoy it then."

He smiled. "If the stars so declare."

* * *

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	14. Shimmers

**I promised that I would not give up on this story. I am planning on keeping that promise. I am very sorry for the wait. I do not have the ability to guarantee quick updates, but I can guarantee a completion. Someday.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"Have you considered that maybe it's, I don't know, not in one of these books?"

"A library has never failed me once, Malfoy, so I think you should can it."

He was looking over her shoulder, as he had been doing for the past week. Since they both were not allowed to leave the house, albeit for different reasons, they were shut in the library. Hermione was researching the mark on her arm. Draco was researching her.

"I just mean," he said, reaching over and flipping another page of the 13th century manuscript she was sifting through. "You've barely left this room since you got grounded. Have you gotten even a smidge closer to cracking the case?"

"Well Malfoy," she said, scanning over the words. "Until I can explain why I have a new tattoo and an undeniable increase in power supply, I've got no other choice."

He sighed and walked to where he had previously been sitting. He picked up another volume from their pile on the table. "Can't we take a break? I feel like my eyes are about to fall out from reading about magical symbolism. This is why I stopped taking History of Magic."

She glanced up at him from her book, cocking an eyebrow. "What do you suggest we do then?"

He shrugged. "We could chat."

"Chat?"

"Chat."

He could've sworn she started chuckling, but her face remained stony. "Have you forgotten that we are in the middle of a war?"

"Oh, my bad. I thought we were blind dating."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and looked back at the manuscript. "I wouldn't take a blind date to a library, Malfoy."

"That is the most dishonest thing you have ever said to me, Granger. I thought we were past that."

She couldn't stop the chuckle this time. It burst forth, quickly turning into a full out guffaw. She turned to look up at him over her shoulder. "I would do that, wouldn't I?"

He smirked before standing back up. He walked over to his original position right behind her chair. He leant close to her ear. "At least you're self-aware," he whispered, looking down at the hollow of her neck for a moment.

An odd sensation ran through her.

She turned quickly, hitting Malfoy in the face with her braid. "We should keep researching."

He sighed and let his head fall onto her shoulder in exasperation. He made the move before he realized what he was doing, causing them both to stiffen momentarily. However, resting his forehead on her shoulder sent shimmers over his skin. Gentle shimmers.

"What in the fuck," he whispered, barely aware of anything but the feeling of his skin touching hers.

"Jesus," she let slip through her barely open mouth. Slowly, her eyes fell closed, letting Draco know that whatever what setting him on edge was affecting her as well.

Neither of them moved.

The sensation pulsated softly across his skin. From their contact point, it spread down his body, until he could feel the princess everywhere. She was like water droplets; running down his skin and cooling everywhere she touched.

He fell into the sensation helplessly, eyes closing slowly. He moved his head forward until his lips were resting on her shoulder.

She didn't say anything. He felt her give a very small nod against his jawline.

He pressed his lips onto her skin, kissing her shoulder gently. The action sent sparks from their contact point, causing a very small gasp from her mouth. He lifted his hand to grasp the side of her arm, holding her a little closer to him, with her back pressed to his chest.

 _Heaven almighty_.

His lips started trailing towards the hollow of her neck which he had eyed early, kissing her with a tenderness neither of them suspected possible of him. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, she couldn't think about anything but the lips marking her and shocking her with every touch.

Slowly, she lifted her trembling hand to reach back and curled her fingers in his hair, pulling him tighter against her body. She felt like she was grabbing at a lifeline.

"Merlin, Hermione," he whispered, his voice dancing across her skin.

It felt like ecstasy.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door, causing the two of them to jump apart. The shock from the separation set her off balance, nearly tumbling off her chair. For a moment, she wasn't able to discern anything but the overwhelming _emptiness_ that stamped out every other emotion.

Simultaneously, the library opened to reveal Lupin, who strode in quickly.

"Oh perfect, you're both here," her old Professor said, unaware of anything that had just happened. Normally, the energy in the room would have been an immediate giveaway. However, Lupin's eyes were dancing rapidly around. The man wasn't noticing anything but whatever was happening in his head.

"Is everything alright, Remus?" Hermione asked, trying to pull herself together. She could sense Malfoy behind her, trying to do the same. At the very least, she thankful that her voice sounded natural.

"One of our scouts tracking the Lestranges discovered that the Death Eaters are moving massive amounts of supplies into their manor on the South Shore," Lupin stated, jumping right into it and putting his hands on the table. "Supplies that includes the missing wands from Ollivanders, and some of the potions lost after the raid of Knockturn two years back."

"Are you serious?" Hermione said, sitting up very straight with huge eyes, all thoughts of Malfoy lost with this new information. "Getting those wands, and especially some of those potions would be incredibly vital. We're losing more supplies with every mission."

"I know," he nodded with exasperation. "This is huge. We haven't had this big an opportunity to win back an advantage since the botched Ollivander rescue."

"Full team, then?" Hermione asked, her face going white.

Lupin nodded.

Draco watched the two exchange an exceptionally serious look. Still trying to calm his pounding heart, he asked. "Sorry there?"

"The entire order is going," Hermione answered briskly, not turning to look back at him. The emptiness Hermione had felt descended on Draco as he realized her snub.

"Not the _entire_ order," Lupin responded, dropping his eyes and still unaware of anything odd in the room.

There was a moment of silence as Lupin's statement made its full impact on Hermione.

She knew this was coming, she had to have. However, the reality of it struck her like a battering ram.

It was one thing to be on house arrest during a lull in missions when no one was out and everyone was together. It was another to know that her entire side was entering into a potentially game changing battle, and she was benched. Some of them might die, and she was stuck in a library with Malfoy.

For a moment, her situation seemed like a remedy.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Lupin muttered. "But we can't risk it, not with this mark still such clear question mark."

She took a deep breath, trying to shake the odd feeling that had arisen in her after realizing the nature of her current situation. "Please, just please send a patronus if it…if it doesn't work out."

Lupin understood what she meant immediately and nodded solemnly.

"When are you all leaving?" Draco asked, leaning back on one of the bookcases.

"Now," Lupin replied, standing up straight. "I just sent out the mass patronus. Anyone who is not at headquarters is going to meet us there."

"Estimated time period?" Hermione asked, struggling to use mission language.

"Three days if we're lucky. Longer if we can't break the wards."

She looked up. "Will you be able to break the wards?"

Lupin nodded. "With enough time and manpower, it shouldn't be an issue."

There was another pause.

"Take care of yourself," Hermione said, eyes downcast.

Remus nodded solemnly before turning and exiting the room. Right before he closed the door, he turned back.

"If…if I know I'm not going to make it out, the last thing I'll do is send you my patronus."

Hermione took a shaking breath. "Thank you, Remus."

He nodded once more, and disappeared from the room. The two remaining occupants sat in blanketed silence as they heard doors open and close all throughout the house, following running footsteps for a few moments. After that, several pops in succession, and then complete silence.

"Granger?" Draco asked after a few moments, timidly breaking the quiet spell. "Are you alright?"

She didn't turn to look at him, unsure of what she was going to see.

"It's okay if you're not," he said, approaching her from behind. He reached up to place a hand on her shoulder.

The contact set them both alight with pulsating flames once again.

Hermione jerked forward, away from the hand reaching out to her. "Why does that keep happening?" she spat out, wrapping her arms around herself protectively, but turning to face him at last.

She wouldn't meet his eye, but he could tell she was panting.

Draco looked down at his own hand. "That was less erotic than last time."

A blush crept up her features. It struck him as beautiful. "We don't need to talk about that," she muttered.

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a step towards her. "With us being alone in this house for three days, we should probably discuss our apparent inability to touch each other without moaning."

"We won't be alone," she shot back, ignoring the last part of his comment. "Blaise will be here as well."

He shook his head. "Blaise was just promoted to full Order member yesterday. Do you not pay attention to gossip?"

"I've been in here, remember?" she nearly snarled back.

"It's slightly depressing that the pariah of the house is more in the loop than you."

"Shut up, Malfoy," she snapped, causing him to smile at the normalcy of her comment.

"There," he said. "That's my girl."

The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. It was as if they became tangible, living things upon entering the air. He could see them spin towards Hermione, before hitting her full force, causing the princess to stumble back a few steps.

"Excuse me?" she whispered angrily, tightening her arms around her chest. "Your _what_?"

"That came out wrong," he floundered, trying himself to comprehend the incomprehensible moniker that had escaped from the deepest part of his subconscious. "I just meant…it was…familiar… you insulting me reminded…reminded me of the girl I used to know." He stammered his explanation out quickly, trying to ignore his pounding heart screaming his own dishonesty back at him.

"I am anything _but_ the girl you used to know, Malfoy," she spat, leaning against the table directly opposite to him.

Her sharpness set him on edge. "Figured," he replied, shrugging. "The girl I used to know would never have moaned if I kissed her neck."

The blush crept back up her features.

He raised his eyebrow. "Got an explanation for that, princess?"

She looked down for a moment, before her green eyes shot up to meet his grey ones at last .

The only word he had for the connection was magnetic.

"The only thing I'm wondering," he said, finding himself starting to take a couple steps towards the frozen girl. He couldn't fight off the magnetism. "If I have the power to make you moan by kissing your neck, what could I make you do by kissing other parts of your body?" He lets his gaze trail over her form.

Gods, she was beautiful.

"What do you know about my body, Malfoy?" she shivered, her voice softer than she initially anticipated. She was fighting to keep her breathing in check, but her heart was hammering out of her chest. Merlin help her.

She was expecting a smirk, but the look on Malfoy's face was almost desperate. Begging. Hopeless. Wanting.

"I know what it feels like," he whispered, stepping still forward. "I know what it feels like to have you pulsing through my blood. To feel your power and magic in my veins. I know what it feels like to feel you with every heartbeat. Your magic, princess, it's indescribable."

He rested his hands on her hips, pulling her right up to his chest. The shock surprised neither of them, but she sucked in a shocked breath regardless.

"That's not my body, Malfoy," she whispered.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's everything you are."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Why is this happening?" she asked again, without trying to move from her place in his arms. "How did we get here?"

"I think I know," he murmured, after a few seconds, tightening his grip on her hips. "It has to be because of the transfer. We're connected, Granger. And that connection is causing us to nearly disintegrate every time we touch. Think about it, princess. We hadn't touched since the transfer, since everything changed."

He was right. He had to be. She remembered what Fred had said about magic transfers. The most _primal, natural_ part of her was her magic. And she had shared it with Malfoy.

No wonder the reaction was, well, primal.

"Not everything's changed, Malfoy," she said as her only response.

He gave her a disdaining look before pulling her flat against his chest. "What did I say," he murmured. "About dishonesty?"

The stars she saw in his eyes would've blinded Venus.

"You're right," she whispered, in a willing defeat.

He smirked. "I often am." With those words, he lowered his lips back to her neck.

"I…," she stammered, trying desperately to focus, but being unable to think about anything but this beautiful man kissing her neck. "I…I'm spoken for, Malfoy."

He chuckled against her skin. "We both know that's a massive exaggeration. Pretty boy didn't even come say goodbye before leaving for this mission, did he?"

Malfoy was right. Seamus hadn't come say goodbye.

"What are you trying to do, Malfoy?" she shot back, before sitting up on the desk. Malfoy slipped his hips between her legs but didn't stop kissing her neck.

"I'm not sure," he answered, letting his tongue caress her skin. "I'm not thinking a lot right now. I'm just doing what feels good, princess. And you can't deny that this feels amazing."

Unconsciously, she tilted her head back, letting him continue to kiss her. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"Princess," she nearly moaned it, giving up any form of resistant and wrapping her legs around his waist. Merlin, her entire body was shaking.

He steadied her, wrapping one arm around the small of her back.

"I don't know, princess," he muttered, trying to not say too much as to not give anything away. "You've always been the Gryffindor princess, the princess of the resistance, princess of a lot of things."

"Merlin, Malfoy," she gasped, suddenly grasping his shirt in her fist. "What is happening?"

"I have no idea, princess," he whispered, his own heart hammering. "But I don't want it to stop."

"What is _it_?" she whispered, eyes closed, only focusing on Malfoy's trailing lips. "You kissing my neck?"

He pulled back from her for a moment. "I can kiss any part you asked me to."

She shook her head. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" he murmured, getting a little closer to her. "We're alone for three days, you can't deny that this feeling," he pulled her against him once more. "Is extraordinary."

"Seamus," she gasped out, trying to focus.

"You know you don't give a damn."

"It's the two of us," she tried again.

"The stars have declared otherwise."

She gained enough autonomy over herself to shove him a bit away. "Draco," she whispered.

Her name on his lips in this position was like nothing he had ever experience before.

"If just our skin touching causes this reaction, this _sensation_ ," she continued. "Anything more will destroy us. It's too much power. It's too much magic."

"Are you sure about that, princess?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Last I _heard_ , you enjoyed magic and intimacy."

She blushed, recalling that Draco had overheard her and Seamus.

"Well," she started. "This wouldn't be intimate."

He blinked. "What are you talking about?"

She blinked. "Sex. Us having sex. What are you talking about?"

His heart nearly exploded at the possibility. "Same, I just don't get what you mean. How would that not be intimate?"

She sighed. "Because it's us. If the two of us were to shag, it would be for ten minutes because we needed a shag and also we're in the middle of a war. Not what I would call intimate."

He blinked at her, stunned into shock for a few seconds. Before he really knew what he was doing, he had reached down and grabbed her arm. Slowly, not breaking their eye contact for a moment, he raised her willow tree mark up to his lips, and kissed it softly.

It was as if she had never felt anything before in her life. It was as if she had never been touched, never been made love to, never cried, never cheered, and never cared about anything. Everything before that moment was a patch of monotonous grey, broken finally by this beautiful man, with his veins full of her power, kissing her arm with a tenderness she had never dared dream for.

"Draco," she gasped, his name escaped her lips. He stared at her with an intensity befitting the gods.

"Now," he murmured, smirking slightly. "How's that for intimate?"

For once, in a very long while, she had absolutely nothing to say in response.

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	15. Lips

**I will not give up on this story, even if life keeps getting in the way, for which I apologize.**

 **Since the last time I uploaded we've hit 800 followers! Thank you so much.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

It had been exactly forty-seven hours since the Order had left.

Just under two days. Alone. At Headquarters. With no one else but Draco Malfoy.

Hermione did not know what to do. That was not a problem she had very often, but when it hit it was like a freight train. She was stumbling alone through a dark woods, with no one to guide her but her gut instinct.

And even that didn't seem to know what she wanted.

After Draco had kissed her willow mark she had run, not walked, from the room. The Order was already gone at this point. They had left Grimmauld Place without so much as a word.

The mission was that serious.

Hermione had hidden herself up in her room, shaking, shivering, her heart was on fire. The feeling of Malfoy pressing his lips so gently to the mark on her arm, and flicking his grey eyes up to meet her green ones, was indescribable. She had never been touched before that moment. Not by anyone, at least not anyone who mattered.

She had said it wouldn't be intimate. She hadn't thought so. Her and Malfoy? If anything physical was to happen between them, it would be against a table with one of her legs around his hips and her skirt hitched up, satisfying a physical need they were both lacking in the middle of a war.

They wouldn't look each other in the eye.

"Fucking Merlin," she whispered, sliding down the wall and curling into her own arms. What in the world was she doing?

She was genuinely contemplating what sleeping with Draco Malfoy would be like. How it would feel. How they would act, with him inside her and she moaning in his ear.

Jesus this mark was ruining her mind.

There was still Seamus, she thought weakly, knowing as the words entered her mind that they meant next to nothing.

It wasn't that Seamus meant nothing, it was never that. It was just that it wasn't intimate. It was a shag, it was comfort and it was what she needed in the middle of a war.

Exactly what she thought Draco would be.

But he wouldn't be. She knew that now. He would kiss her and she would moan and fall into the arms of the man who had defected. The man who she had hated almost her entire life. The man she had saved.

And it would burn her alive.

God. Who could survive that?

* * *

Forty seven hours later, she still wasn't sure if she could survive.

The fact that she was even considering it showed considerable mental strain. It wasn't that she was genuinely thinking about it. There were factors. There was context. There was an Order that would explode and a lover who would kill him and two best friends who would return to kill her as well.

How did she even get here.

Draco had vacated the library since the encounter. He had retreated to the room he had occupied since that fateful day in Diagon Alley. She knew he was eating; food kept disappearing from the pantry.

But nothing else.

In response, she curled up in a chair at the table with a whole pile of books. She hadn't heard much from the Order, except that they hadn't been successful in breaking the wards yet. With nothing else to do besides research the mark, she had decided to do her damndest as an Order Member and research wards to see if there was anything she was missing.

That's what she was doing when Draco finally emerged.

She felt him before she saw him.

The tingles started at her mark. They spread from the roots of the willow tree up the branches, spreading to her arms and then the rest of her. She was shaking by the time she heard the door click shut behind him.

"Have you been here for the past two days?" he asked, walking up and talking his seat at the table.

"Not for the entirety," she murmured, avoiding his eyes.

"Hermione," he sighed. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, she looked up.

He looked concerned. Maybe? Upset? Also maybe. He was a brick wall and she could only see a sliver of light coming through.

Enough to know he wasn't happy.

"What's bothering you, Draco?" The question escaped her lips before she could figure out why she had asked or even why she cared.

He raised an eyebrow. "Draco, now?"

The switch from his surname to his first name had happened unconsciously, she now realized. But it had happened.

She shrugged, trying to block out every feeling she had. "What's bothering you?"

He appraised her for a moment. "You are."

"In what way?"

"You have to admit that something's going on here," he said, leaning forward. "You sensed me when I came in, admit it."

She started. "How on earth…"

"Because I did too." He leaned back. "The moment we were in the vicinity of each other. I felt it. From my…my mark, up my arms, and back down again."

He stared at her. A blush crept up her neck.

"It has to be the magic transfer," he continued. "It connected us. That's why we're acting like this. Why we're feeling like this."

"Feeling like what?" she sighed.

The look he gave her was piercing. "You know exactly what I mean."

Silence.

She coughed. "I know it's only us in the house, but I have to use this time to help the Order. That's why I'm here, Draco."

He rolled his eyes. "The longer we ignore it the worse it'll be when it strikes."

She glared. "Or it will never strike at all."

He shrugged. "Believe what you want to, Hermione."

She didn't respond.

"What's the problem with the Order right now?" he said, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. "There's always something."

She sighed. "They're at the South Shore Lestrange Manor like Lupin said. They're trying to get at the cargo stash but can't find out how to lower the wards. I've been trying to figure out if there's a catch."

"Of course there's a catch, Hermione, there's always a catch with them," Draco muttered, lowering his eyes away from her.

"Like there was a catch for you?" she asked, thinking back to his defection.

He nodded curtly. "The murder of a young girl was not the catch I was initially expecting."

"What was then?"

He started. "What do you mean?"

She eyed him, looking him over before responding. "You said initially. What catch were you expecting from the death eaters before that girl? Were you…were you doubting? Initially?"

Silence.

He was thunderstruck. The use of the word had slipped out unconsciously before he could even think about what he had said. He stuttered for a moment before responding as his words fell into place moments before he said them.

"I'm not sure if it was anything in particular," he started, breathing deeply and trying to control his racing heart. "It was…the whole institution. The job. The order. I…when this all started, I was a kid. I was a child. I was a complete prat who though I deserved the world based on what my father had said. There was a reason I couldn't kill Dumbledore that night. I wasn't ready for this…for a war I mean. I wanted attention, fame and glory, but what fucking sixteen year old doesn't. I was a prat and I've paid for it since the day this all began. So there was a catch from the beginning. The whole goddamn war."

He didn't look at her after he was done speaking. He stared out the small window in the library into the rainy, dreary night, frowning slightly. Hermione had never been really into Legilimency, but if she could bet, she'd bet that Draco was re-watching the past three years with what he knew now. He was probably remembering moments he thought were okay, or he thought he needed to happen to get where he wanted.

But now he understood that all of it was now absolutely fucking useless.

"Was it exhausting?" she asked. "Hating all these people, people like me, for their birth?"

He glanced up. "You're different."

She raised an eyebrow. His entire demeanor had changed. He was tenser, fidgeting, and nothing like before. "I'm a muggleborn."

He opened his mouth, frowning, and closed it just as fast as if unsure how to respond to that fact.

"See, this is the fucking problem with pureblood supremacy," she muttered, flipping the page in her book. "You all obsess over blood and birthright until you find yourself a muggleborn you like, or are attracted to or whatever the fuck it may be. Now I'm the "exception" but I'm a muggleborn all the same. A "good one" or any of that bullshit but seriously. Blood is all you can think of unless its convenient to think otherwise."

He looked stunned.

"You know I'm right," she said, flipping another page. "It's all blood, blood, blood unless you want to get laid or whatever it may be."

"I'm not looking for a lay with you, Hermione," he said at last, after a few seconds of silence.

"Could've fooled me," she muttered.

"It's not about that," he said, angrily. "It's about the goddamn bliss I feel when I touch you." He reached forward and grabbed her hand.

She ripped it back before the sensation could start. She was already lightheaded. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh cut the crap, Hermione," he said, standing up. He walked around the side of the table, and pulled her up to her feet.

"What the fuck is this?" she demanded, trying desperately to ignore the way he was setting her alit.

"You feel the same way I do," he whispered, turning her around and sitting her up on the table, shoving some books to the floor as he did. She didn't resist.

"Ever since the magic transfer," he said, reaching up and brushing a curl out of her face. "I feel you. All the time. You're running through my veins. Every drop of you, all that power…."

He licked his lips.

"Touching you sets me on fire," he said, grabbing her waist and pulling her against him. "I'm overwhelmed. It's too much even being near you. But this, oh merlin _this_. We're connected, because of that goddamn transfer. There's something here. Maybe it's just physical…maybe it's something more. All I know for sure is that nothing could be closer to heaven than…than having you. And if I was going to guess anything, Princess, I would guess that you agree."

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't say anything. It was too much, too much energy pulsating around them. She could've sworn the air was shimmering. His hands gripping her waist, his grey eyes invading her space, his lips inches away…

It didn't matter. They were in a war. No one could possibly blame her. It was the mark. This bloody fucking mark was doing this to her, sending her into the arms of Draco fucking Malfoy…

But Merlin be damned. With him looking at her like this, with inches separating them…nothing else could possibly matter.

She lifted her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to meet hers.

If there were words God had created to describe a feeling like this, she didn't know them. If there were memories of hers close to this, she couldn't recall them. If there was anything closer to perfection, she wouldn't be able to name it to save her life.

A few days prior, when Draco's lips touched the crook of her neck and she felt the world melt away, she could not have imagined anything better.

Except for him kissing her as tenderly as he was.

It wasn't the fire she initially expected. It was safety. It was a slow burn.

It was exactly where she needed to be.

His lips were softer than she would have thought. They moved against hers in tandem, devouring her taste. She moaned under them.

She could feel him smirk in response.

He climbed on top of the table, lowering her body down until her back was pressed against the wood. He pressed his body on top of hers, causing her to rip his shirt over her head. She wanted to be closer. She _needed_ to be closer.

Her shirt came off. He shuddered in response, taking a moment to lean back and look her over.

"Merlin," he breathed, heart pounding. "My beautiful princess."

She didn't correct him.

He leaned back down and attached his lips to her neck. She could feel him bite down, sending shock waves through her as he left a mark. He kissed lower and lower, his body shifting downwards.

She wasn't sure what exactly she was doing, or what the consequences would be tomorrow. But as his lips trailed lower, she found her thoughts disappearing as quickly as they had come.

Nothing else mattered.

He kissed her collarbone before dipping to her breasts. Moving her bra to the side, his tongue flicked across her nipple, causing a sharp intake of breath. He smirked before latching on to her completely.

She moaned her approval, her appreciation, her overwhelming pleasure. His hands gripped on to her hips, fingers digging into her skin, surely leaving a bruise for tomorrow.

"Don't stop," she murmured, her chest heaving. "Don't stop touching me."

"Not fucking ever, princess," he promised, sealing them together.

His lips returned to her chest, and trailed lower. He kissed down her stomach before reaching the top of her waistband. He hesitated and those grey eyes looked up at her for permission.

She nodded.

His fingers undid her top buttons and pulled them down, leaving her lying under him in just her underwear. He took just one second to look her over.

"Glorious," he whispered, before kissing lower and lower.

 _Jesus Merlin Christ_.

She wasn't quite sure how long she was on that table. It could've been an eternity or a mere few seconds. That moment with Draco seemed to exist outside of time, as she was transported further from herself than she ever had before, before crashing back into herself as she came undone below him.

She gasped and moaning, grinding her hips against his face, shocked and stunned that he could do that to her. He had pushed her right to the edge before pulling her back right into his arms.

He had climbed back on top of her to kiss her lips again. He was so tender, yet the passion surrounding them was like electricity.

Magnetic.

After a moment, he pulled back to smirk at her. "Weren't expecting that, now were you Princess?"

With nothing else to say, she shook her head.

He reached up and stroked her cheek, before flicking his thumb over her lower lip. "Who could care about blood when this was possible?"

"The entire Death Eater side," she replied, still breathing heavily.

And that's when it hit her, like a pile of bricks.

"Princess?" Draco murmured, grinding his hips into her, eliciting a little moan. "You've gone white."

"That's it," she whispered, sitting up and shoving him off her, trying to get herself under control, before jumping off the table and grabbing one of the books they had haphazardly thrown to the floor.

"What's it?"

She flipped through a few pages before finding what she was looking for. She smirked. She handed the volume to Draco and pointed at what she had found.

"It's always about blood."

He read it over quickly before a smirk appeared on his own face.

"You sly vixen."

* * *

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	16. Wards

**Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"It's always about blood," Hermione said into her wand, as her otter patronus danced around the floor. "The wards are blood based. You need a familial link to break them. You need a blood relation to Bellatrix."

Draco sat on the chair next to her, shirt still discarded, breathing deeply as he listened to Hermione dictate her message to the Order. It had taken her less than two minutes after her discovery to find the information in a book and send it to her comrades. After the message went out, they would get it within five minutes, and that would be that.

He could barely think about the ramifications of them discovering the blood wards. There would probably be a battle, some would return, some would not. It didn't matter to Draco. The only thing he could think about was Hermione and the way her body had felt squirming beneath his as he devoured her with his lips.

She had tasted better than he could've ever imagined. She was like the forbidden fruit; so good that he'd be damned to hell forever for indulging in her for an instant. The power that radiated off her skin had enveloped him, magnifying the same feeling running through his veins from the magic transfer.

He had never possessed more power in his entire life than getting to hold hers for a moment. The pureblood princess, wizarding royalty, the most powerful witch he would probably have the honour of meeting his entire life.

He was so supremely fucked.

Sitting in that chair, watching Hermione speak to the Order after that…life-changing moment, Draco remembered his mission. He was still a double agent. He still had orders. He still had to bring Hermione back to the Dark Lord to regain her position amidst the pureblood order, on pain of his own life, and the lives of his parents.

And yet.

He wanted to bring her back. He wanted her to be treated as royalty by people who understood and respected her power, instead of the Order's fear of everything she could do. He wanted a world where he could sit next to her, and she would understand who she was. He wanted her to be a princess, his princess.

 _And yet._

Something felt wrong in his gut as he looked at her, standing there glowing. As he watched her, he understood it more. She still thought she was a muggleborn. That was her identity. And it was within that identity that she was flourishing.

She would never come back to the Dark Lord with him. Not ever.

Maybe he always thought that she would succumb with this new power, or if the Order annoyed her enough. Or even if he….no. No then. But, he thought she would want to if she understood her power.

She didn't care. Her power, her radiant power, did not change her hatred of pureblood supremacy. Draco knew it now more than he had ever before. Even if she knew who she was, she would not feel superior.

She would still feel like a muggleborn witch since to her, that's who she was.

And so, she would never turn on the Order, or help the Dark Lord uphold a pureblood society. She would never change sides. She wasn't like him. She had morals, loyalty, and the firmness of what she believed to be right. It guided her choices.

Her lineage would not change that. He was a fool to even consider it would.

And so she would never come with him willingly. But he still had orders from the darkest wizard of all time.

Which meant, as aforementioned, he was _**so supremely fucked**_.

Hermione finished her message and closed her eyes. The otter danced around her feet a few seconds more before disappearing in a flash. The message was sent.

She turned to look at him, green eyes meeting grey.

Draco was lost for words. He looked at her, understanding for the first time the impossibility of his task, and not giving half a fuck, _because_ he was looking at her.

He held out his hand. "Come here," he ordered hoarsely.

"Draco," she started before he shook his head.

"Please." He nearly moaned it.

She complied.

She took a few steps towards him before straddling his lap. Their chests pressed together. He swore he could hear her heartbeat.

"We should think," she whispered, her hair tickling the tops of his shoulders as she leaned forward.

"Who says I'm not?" he replied, tilting his head up so his lips grazed her neck. She shuddered.

"We need to stay aware," she whispered, leaning into him. "What if they send us a message?"

He smirked. "Well, we have time to spare until then." He gripped her hips.

She began to lean forward, submitting to his wishes, when a ray of light burst into the room, followed by a wolf patronus.

Lupin.

The wolf stalked around the room before stopping immediately in front of them.

" _Thank you. Zabini is a second cousin. We're going in_." After it finished speaking, the wolf disappeared.

Hermione took a deep breath, resting her forehead against his. "It worked."

"Of course it worked," Draco replied. "I cannot remember a moment where you were wrong."

Something shimmered behind her eyes for a moment before disappearing. Without so much as a warning, she dismounted him, reached down and grabbed her shirt to throw it back on.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, his skin screaming at the separation. "What happened?"

"We can't do this," she stated.

"I thought we covered this already," he whispered, trying not to scare her. "We…we have something here. Something powerful. Something we need."

"You're right," she whispered. "There's something here, and I'm not exactly sure what it is. And you're right, I want you. But, we just can't. Not here. Not now. Not on top of this table while everyone's on a mission."

"Is this about Finnigan?" Draco asked, standing up to meet her at eye level. "He's a bloody tosser."

"This isn't about Seamus," she replied. "It's about us. Not now, Draco. Maybe not ever. It doesn't matter how…how you make me feel. There are more important things for us to deal with."

"So what?" Draco demanded. "There will always be a more important thing, we're in a war goddammit. But what's wrong with taking a moment for our bloody selves to feel like fucking human beings again?"

"Because it's not making us feel human," Hermione replied. "It's making us feel more than human. More powerful, like deities. That magic transfer…it screwed us over. We have this magical connection, and if we fall victim to it…I don't think we'll be able to fully return to human. Maybe not ever." With those final words, she leaned down and grabbed the remaining of her discarded clothes before leaving the room.

Draco remained, stunned, confused, and not sure at all how to proceed with anything. He stood, staring after her, trying to understand what had changed so suddenly, and trying to stop her magic from flowing through his veins.

She burned to the touch.

* * *

The Order returned the next morning. Draco heard them arrive from his room, where he had retreated to fall into a restless sleep. He waited a moment before descending, trying to gauge how the mission had gone. Upon not hearing screams or crying, he went down to the kitchen.

It was almost a full blown party. The retrieved wands were lying on the kitchen table, with every member of the Order present. No one looked terribly injured, only a cut here or there. Blaise stood at the center. Draco could easily see the cut on his arm where he imagined they had taken the blood sacrifice, but, more important to him at that moment was the fact that those arms were wrapped around Hermione.

After her retreat from the library the night prior, Draco hadn't seen her. When Blaise let her go, she avoided looking at him at all costs.

Ah. So that's what they were doing. Completely ignoring it had ever happened.

He tried not to show his reaction as the magic tried to push him towards her.

Lupin hobbled to the front of the group. He looked tired and sweaty, but otherwise unharmed. "Merlin, Hermione," he started, bringing the younger woman into his harms. "Would we have ever been screwed without you."

"What ended up happening?" Hermione asked, just as Finnigan walked up behind her and curled her into his arms.

Draco couldn't help the flare of jealousy that erupted in his chest.

If Hermione didn't want Finnigan touching her, it wasn't clear to him.

Lupin sighed. "We arrived quickly, but the wards were too strong. Until we got your message, we were sitting ducks. They could've taken us down at any time. But thankfully, Zabini here is second cousins with Bellatrix. All it took was a few drops of blood and we were in."

"Since they didn't think we would be able to get any blood relatives, they only had a couple guards watching the wands. Didn't take us long to bring them down, grab everything and get back here. No one died, barely even injured."

"Thank merlin," Hermione whispered, leaning her head back onto Finnigan's shoulder sighing. "I was so worried."

"Us as well," one of the Weasley twins said, falling into a chair. "It wouldn't have been long before they realized we were there. God, 'Mione, without you we would have been so drastically fucked."

Finnigan nodded. "How did you even figure it out?"

"That's a good question," Lupin responded. "What were you doing? How did you get the answer?"

There was a slight pause, and for the first time, Hermione turned to look at him. He stayed silent.

"It was Draco actually," Hermione answered. A murmur of surprise swept through the room. "We were researching in the library and getting nowhere. But then…we started talking about blood, and pureblood supremacy, and it just occurred to me. The death eaters would never expect a pureblood to turn on them, that's why they all hated Sirius so much. So the one type of magic they would unilaterally depend on was blood magic."

Everyone turned to Draco. He tried to hold it together. "Yeah, that's basically what happened."

Most people nodded at the answer. Finnigan looked annoyed, but not much more than that. The only person who seemed to not buy it was his old friend. The look on his face said something else. Draco averted his eyes as the Order went back to discussing the mission. Not wanting to watch Finnigan hold on to the princess anymore, he left the room quietly and went back upstairs.

He could feel Hermione's eyes on him as he left.

* * *

"What the fuck are you doing, Draco?"

He looked up from the book he was reading. "I was wondering how long you'd take, Blaise."

His old best friend was standing in the doorway, glaring at him. He strode in, slamming the door behind him, and sitting at the foot of the bed. Draco sat up, ready for the lecture.

"You knew I noticed," Blaise accused.

"Of course I did, Blaise, I'm not a complete dunce."

"Could've fooled me," Blaise responded. "Because only a complete fucking dunce would think right now is a good time to get involved with Hermione Granger."

There was a moment of silence.

"I think involved is putting it a bit strongly."

The noise that escaped from Blaise was nearly a hiss. "You fucking prat. You're under asylum here, you could get thrown out at any moment, and you really think boning the pride and joy of this institution is going to get you any favour."

"We didn't bone," Draco muttered.

"I'm sure that wasn't due to lack of trying," Blaise responded. "I'm sure that's because Hermione, unlike yourself, is not a complete fucking dunce."

Another silence.

Blaise leaned back against the wall. "What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing? I get it, she's beautiful, but this genuinely can't be worth it to you. You're putting your own life at risk for a girl. I'm surprised Finnigan didn't smell you on her and kill you right then and there."

Draco started. "You know about Finnigan? I thought that was a hush-hush set up."

He snorted. "Please, everyone knew except Potter and Weasley. I was here for two days before I saw Hermione sneak into his bedroom. I asked the Weasley twin and he confirmed it. Everyone knew, no one cared, but no one told Potter or Weasley because of course they would care."

"They've been together a long time, huh," Draco realized, more so then he had before.

"I think it's been a year or so," Blaise said. "But it's not romantic, at least not for Hermione. It is, however, necessary. She needs it. Don't fuck it up. She's our only chance of winning this war."

His comment caused Draco to raise an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Blaise looked him dead in the eye and took a deep breath before speaking. "You know as well as I do, don't for one second pretend you don't."

Draco's jaw dropped as the full implications of Blaise's words hit him. "How long…how long have you known? Why haven't you told them?"

Blaise responded. "I've only heard the rumours. My mum was good friends with Nott's aunt. I suspected it when I saw the mark. I knew it when I felt her power."

"And you haven't told them because…"

"Because it won't matter," Blaise responded. "Hermione is a weapon whether she knows her heritage or not. And frankly, I don't want any more spotlights on her than there already are. The less she knows, the less danger she is in."

"But don't you think the Dark Lord would spare her if he knew?" Draco asked.

Blaise laughed. "You really are living up to your title of complete fucking dunce. No, he would use her for her power, and if she refused, he would kill her so she couldn't fight him. It doesn't matter how pure your blood is if you're on the wrong side."

There was a pause as Draco thought about his mission. The Dark Lord wanted to return her to the pureblood side so she could be with her people, not so he could use her…no that couldn't be true.

"What's going on with you and her?" Blaise demanded, interrupting his reverie. "You have to know about her heritage, that's why you're interested in her."

"No it's not," he responded. "I mean, I know about her heritage…"

"How?"

He paused. "Narcissa, she told me the rumours about Celia and her child. I didn't realize it until I saw the eyes, and the mark."

"Okay, so if it's not the pureblooded-ness of it all, what is it?"

He sighed. "I mean, she's beautiful, you're right, but nothing happened between us until…until the magic transfer."

Blaise gawked. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Draco sighed before launching into the story, remembering a bit too late that Blaise hadn't known about that. After a few minutes, his old friend was shaking his head in absolute disbelief.

"Hermione's magic, all that power, is inside you as well?" he gaped. "How on earth are you alive right now?"

"It's like being on fire at all times," Draco sighed. "I can always feel her, at every second. I feel her when she's not here, I know when she walks into a room, I can't even begin to explain to you what it felt like to be on top of her."

"No wonder you two can't keep your hands off each other," Blaise said, crossing his arms. "You two have shared the absolute most carnal part of your lives. I can't even believe that Hermione was able to pull herself off of you."

"Me neither, honestly," Draco muttered. "I thought she…I thought she felt it as much as I did."

"It's not like you gave her any of your magic, that might make a difference," Blaise responded. "Or she might just have better self-control than you do. Actually…it's probably the second one. This morning, the way she looked at you, I am so shocked Finnigan didn't kill you right then and there."

"I wonder if she's going to stay with him," Draco wondered, trying to ignore the slight pain he felt at the thought.

Blaise shrugged. "The only thing we all know for sure now is that there's no way you'll turn on us."

He started. "What the fuck, Blaise? Wasn't that already determined?"

The other man shrugged. "I mean, we all had doubts. But there is no chance you'd turn on us now, if there was even a chance of Hermione getting hurt. You're an extension of her now. She runs through your veins."

Like clockwork, as soon as Blaise finished, there was knock on the door. "Come in," Blaise responded.

The door creaked open, and no one less than Hermione walked in.

The atmosphere in the room changed immediately. Blaise and Draco exchanged a look, thankful that she had arrived after the conversation was over, and not during.

"Hey Blaise," she said. Draco could almost feel her heartbeat again. Her eyes shifted to his. "Hey Draco."

"Hermione," he nodded. "What's going on?"

"Sorry to interrupt," she started, averting her eyes to the floor. "I just had a conversation with Lupin I think you should hear about."

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up straight.

She sighed. "He came to apologize for not letting me on the mission since I was the one who figured out the wards in the end."

"Good," Draco said, more fiercely than he intended.

If Hermione noticed his tone, she didn't show it. "So turns out he spoke to some of the other higher ups, like Tonks etc, and they changed their minds. I can go on the next mission, mark be damned."

"They'd be better off with you power source anyway," Draco responded, even though the idea of Hermione facing up against death eaters made him more nervous than he cared to admit.

"But that's not all," she continued. "Since…since you were the one who helped me figure it out, they want you as well."

"Come again?" asked Blaise, as Draco gawked.

Hermione nodded. "I guess they've been convinced enough of your loyalty. We're going to be scheduled for the next mission together."

There was a moment of silence before Draco chuckled.

"And how does our old friend Finnigan feel about that fact?"

Expecting her to yell, Draco was surprised when Hermione smiled in response.

"I don't think today is the best day of his life."

Blaise looked between the two of them for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes and stood up. "Don't be fucking idiots," he said, walking to the door and leaving the room.

There was a pause as Hermione turned to him again. After a moment, he spoke.

"So," Draco started. "Are we pretending nothing happened or shagging immediately? You just need to keep me in the loop."

"Don't do this, Draco," she pleaded, crossing her arms.

"I don't think it's an unfair question," he responded. "We know what we do to each other. Forgive me for wanting that feeling again."

She took a moment before sighing and walking over to the bed.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, shocked, as Hermione lifted up the blanket and climbed under them with him.

"Please shut up," she responded, before cuddling into his chest. "We can't…I already explained why we can't, but I need something. I need something here with you. So please, just shut up and hold me until my heart stops pounding and the fire calms down and we can exist in the same place without imploding. Just give me that, since that's all I can give you."

And Draco, shocked but content to just be holding her against his body, was happy to oblige.

* * *

 **Review :)**


	17. Lovers

**Updating twice in the same day? A true Xmas miracle.**

 **Warning: this chapter gets M rated at the end, if that's not your thing please be forewarned.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Hermione came to slowly, drifting into consciousness by nuzzling into the arms surrounding her. She barely realized who it was, relishing in the feeling of comfort and safety.

The arms tightened reflexively around her. She felt breath on her neck.

"Seamus," she murmured, turning over.

"Wrong lover," a voice answered in return, softly kissing the crown of her hair.

Her eyes bolted open.

"Draco, what in the hell happened?"

The Slytherin sighed, pulling her closer to him. "We fell asleep, love. Don't worry, nothing happened. Just enjoy the feeling."

She tried to calm her racing heart, as the pieces of her memory from the night prior fell into place. She had gone to Draco's bed, not to sleep with him, no matter how badly she wanted it. But as a compromise.

After the library the other night, as the climax of moments between them, she couldn't deny any longer that there was something there. It was more than she could explain. The feel of him, even now, so soft and gentle with her body as he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead, sent fire from her heart through all her blood.

He was attractive, she wasn't fool enough to pretend otherwise. But this wasn't attraction. Well, it was but not in the traditional sense. She was attracted to Seamus. She was…connected to Draco. The magic transfer had done them in, binding them in an unbreakable link that caused her skin to shimmer every time she was near him, for his heartbeat to pound in tandem with hers, and for her to want nothing more but to moan beneath him as they connected in their most primal form.

But she could not do that. Maybe he was in asylum, maybe he had defected. But he was still Draco Malfoy. He was the ex-death eater who would be murdered if it got out that they were linked. Seamus would crucify him on the front lawn. And she…god what would even happen to her.

The risks were too high. And as much as she wanted the reward, she could not justify it to herself. Not now. Not with these stakes.

"Draco," she murmured into his neck. "We should get up, we can't get caught leaving here together."

He grunted in response, holding her closer. "Everyone can go fuck themselves."

She chuckled. "Draco…"

"Hermione, shut up," he responded, eyes still closed. "If this is the only time we get together before going back to pretending, then let me hold you for another five minutes. It won't kill anyone."

She sighed, defeated, before snuggling back up to him. Having him in this way felt different then what they'd done before. Her skin was still burning from where they touched, but it was soft, warm, comfortable. She felt whole. The emptiness that had overcome her recently was gone, replaced by the simple pleasure of having him touch her.

"You really are quite the witch, aren't you," Draco asked, finally peeking at her with one eye.

"You know me," she said, lifting herself up on her forearms to look at him. He leaned back, reclining in the bed as he began to brush her hair aside. At some point during the night, his shirt had been cast aside, along with her pants. She watched him watch her, and she watched him right back.

He sure was beautiful.

"What're you thinking?" he asked her. She didn't respond. He sighed. "Hermione, I was in classes with you for long enough to know when you're thinking about something. Just tell me."

"I was thinking about how beautiful you looked," she replied honestly, running her fingers along his chest. Spontaneously, and without really thinking about it, she swung her legs over him and straddled his chest. Almost instinctively, he grabbed her hips.

"Changed your mind, did you?" he asked, trying not to show how shocked and excited he was.

She leant down and began to kiss his neck. "I wish I could give you an absolute answer."

"God, Hermione," he moaned, arching up to meet her. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Before she could change her mind further, there was knock on the door.

The speed in which she dismounted Draco was impressive.

"Draco, mate?" Blaise's voice rang through the door. "It's almost noon. You and…uh you should get up before people start worrying."

The implication was clear.

"I should go," Hermione said, skirting out of bed and grabbing her pants, throwing them back on. Before she started towards the door, she leant down and kissed Draco's forehead. "Thank you," she whispered, before darting out the door.

She didn't wait for his response.

She ran up to her room, luckily avoiding everyone, and grabbed a towel before jumping into the shower. She set it on the coldest setting before grabbing the shower wall and taking a few deep breaths.

What the fuck was she doing?

Every time she seemed to make up her mind about him, he would touch her, and her resolve would crumble. It was taking the entirety of her willpower to not pull him into a broom closet and just take him then and there. God, she could just imagine.

She knew the look in his eyes when he was on top of her. Him, looking at her with burning passion, taking her slower, kissing down her body, then back up, the two of them, intertwined, with him pounding inside her oh so slowly…

She needed to calm the fuck down.

It was just the magic transfer, she whispered to herself over and over. That's all this is. It was how she had given him such a primal part of herself, and it was messing with her head. She felt him….no…not even. She felt _herself_ in his blood, calling her to him with every heartbeat.

God save us all.

After she had calmed her own heartrate sufficiently, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around her body. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she saw the flush covering her face and chest. Taking a few more calming breaths, she walked out into the hallway.

She regretted it almost immediately.

Seamus stood opposite the bathroom, arms crossed, leaning against the staircase. He stared at her for a few moments before speaking.

"Where were you last night?"

She paused. "What do you mean?"

He nearly snarled. "Don't play with me, Hermione. I swung by your room last night. You weren't there. So, where were you?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, the lie slipping off her tongue with ease. "I was up and around the whole night."

"Do you blame me for not believing you?" he replied.

"Do you blame me for not caring?" she responded.

He sighed. "Hermione, what happened to us? What's been going on with you now?"

"Isn't there a better time to discuss this, Seamus? I am in a towel right now."

"It's not like I haven't seen more," he said, taking a step forward. She didn't budge.

"Why does that matter, Seamus?" she replied. "We've fucked, you're right. That doesn't give you the right to know what I'm doing at all times, or to have my attention at all times."

"Were you with him?" Seamus asked quietly, his eyes avoiding hers.

Her heart skipped a beat. "With who, Seamus?"

"Malfoy," he replied, regaining the courage to look her in the eye. "Are you sleeping with him?"

She sighed. "No, I'm not." It was technically true. "But Seamus, you and I aren't together. We…we've been sleeping together but we aren't together. You don't get to ask me that."

"Hermione, I'm worried about you," he replied, sounding desperate for the first time. "You…you've been off since he got here, I don't feel like I can reach you."

"We're in a war, Seamus," she snarled. "Maybe the reason you can't reach me is that I don't want to be reached."

"You've always wanted me before."

"But not anymore," she replied, the words hitting her and the air at the same time. She heard the finality ring at the same time that he did. "I can't be the person you rely on to exist, Seamus. I can't."

"I'm not asking you to be, Hermione," Seamus cried out, the desperation now saturating his voice.

"Yes you are," she replied, sure of her stance now. "More than that. You're asking me to be…you're asking me to be Dean."

He stumbled back, like she had slapped him across the face. "What the hell do you mean?"

The words came tumbling forward before she could even react. "Ever since he died, you've been holding on to me as if I could disappear at any moment. It's made you manipulative, jealous and obsessive. I can't be his sub in. I'm not his replacement. Losing me does not mean losing him twice. I'm sorry that this is the way things went, but what we had was what we needed for a while. But it cannot be what we rely on."

Before he could even say another word, she dipped past him and ran back up to her room.

The door was locked behind her before the tears began falling freely.

* * *

A few hours later, after she had cried herself to bits over a relationship lost but a relationship never had, she managed to pull it together enough to go downstairs. Expecting a bit of relaxation after the wands mission of the prior few days, she was shocked to find the majority of the Order of the mission bent over a table.

"What's going on?" she asked, strolling into the kitchen. Having been so focused on the papers spread across the table, the entire team started at her arrival.

Seamus wouldn't look at her.

She averted her eyes to Lupin. "Lupin? What's happening?"

Her old defense teacher sighed. "We've got another mission coming up."

"Coming up?" she asked, sensing the answer before it was given.

"Tomorrow."

She took a deep breath, and rubbed her marked reflexively. "Where?"

Lupin looked up to meet her eyes. "The Malfoy summer home."

The silence was overwhelming.

"Why?" she asked, voice like glass. "What could possibly be there?"

"Rumour has it that's where they're keeping some of the captured from that raid of Hogsmeade early September? Do you remember that?"

She nodded, the flashes taking over her mind. Her mark burned. "You mean Hannah?"

"To name only one," Lupin replied. "We don't want to waste any time trying to get them out, since it's taken us so long to discover where they're being held. Since none of us were injured after the Lestrange manor raid, we want to get going as soon as possible."

She nodded, almost reflexively falling into combat mode. Her mark flickered across her skin. "And so what does this mean? For me?"

There was a look exchanged between some of the elder Order members before Lupin spoke again. He turned back to face her.

"What it means is I expect you and Malfoy ready to leave at exactly 8 am tomorrow morning."

Her heart skipped a beat. "I'll go tell him," she said, before turning and racing back up the stairs.

She did not look at Seamus again.

* * *

"Draco?" she asked, pushing the door open.

He was in exactly the same position he had been when she had left earlier, reclined, shirtless, but this time with a book in his hands. She tried to keep her breathing even.

He looked up at her. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Lupin sent me up," she said, shutting the door behind her. Barely even noticing that she had done it, she flicker her wrist, wandlessly locking and silencing it behind her.

Even if she did it without noticing, Draco did not.

"Do you have something to say to me that you don't want anyone else knowing?" he said, finally putting his book down.

"We need to invade your summer home tomorrow," she burst out, before realizing how absurd the sentence sounded.

He raised an eyebrow. "That's an odd way of putting it."

She sighed. "We are going on a mission tomorrow and the Malfoy summer home is the target."

She thought he paled a bit, but when she looked again it seemed to be just a trick of the light.

"Are you ready for that, Draco?" she asked, softer this time, fighting every urge she felt to rush forward and hold him.

He sucked in a breath. "As ready as I'll ever be. You never are ready to turn on your old side, as much as you may want to. My parents might be there."

She nodded, sympathetically, before realizing that she was showing sympathy for Draco Malfoy's plight of becoming not a death eater.

They looked at each other for a few moments.

It occurred to her that this might be their last moment. That was always true in a war, realistically, but this was the first time since he'd arrive that he might not, or she might not, return the next day. The realization hit her more strongly than she'd care to admit.

"So," he started. "Are you staying here again tonight, or is it Finnigan's night?" He tried to hold back the revulsion the statement caused, but it slipped through nonetheless.

"I…" she said before stuttering off. He raised an eyebrow. She returned his look, and it was as if a final puzzle piece had fallen into place in her head. She thought about everything that had happened between the two of them, every decision she had made on the matter, and every time her blood had screamed otherwise.

And suddenly, it didn't matter. She didn't care. The only thing in the world that made a goddamn difference to her was lying half-naked in a bed in front of her.

She had decided. They were linked. And that was that.

 _Just say it, Hermione_. "I ended things with Seamus."

Whatever he had been expecting her to say, it had not been that. "You…you did what? Why? Was it…was it because of..this?"

She noticed that he didn't say 'us'.

"Not completely, but I won't say it didn't factor in," she admitted, taking a tentative step forward. "Ever since…ever since the mark…no…before that. Ever since Dean died, Seamus has been off. He's been holding on to me so tight I can barely breath. I think I've been filling Dean's place for him. I'm his new best friend, so that he never had to really deal with the death of his old one. And I can't do that anymore. I can't be the person holding him together. Because what happens when I'm gone."

"Don't say that," Draco snarled. "Don't ever say that."

Hermione ignored his outburst. "It's not in the realm of impossibility. We are at war. We can support each other and hold each other up. But I can't hold him together. I'm too busy doing that for myself."

"Besides, I haven't felt right being with Seamus for a while. Not since…" she trailed off, suddenly losing the nerve to say what she had been internally screaming for weeks.

Draco looked at her. And suddenly she knew that he got it.

It need not be said aloud. It was understood.

Before she could even blink, he had stood up and gripped her hips, slamming her against the door.

"Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he whispered, his eyes dancing over her face, yearning for her approval. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll go back to bed, and never bring it up again, and you can go upstairs and we'll go on that mission in the morning and never again imagine that we could've had this."

She opened her mouth, and with her blood screaming, and her magic pounding and every inch of her flesh craving him, she whispered the only two words she could ever have said to him in that moment.

" _I can't_."

The words were said. Her fate was sealed. And god, the only word she could use to describe it was grateful.

His lips slammed against her, devouring her taste. His fingers gripped her hips with such fierceness that she could feel the bruises forming. She melted under it. She melted under him. The only thing she could feel was heat, radiating off him, off her, off _them_.

She raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, meeting him with equal fervor. Her body sang in response to touching him. And without a doubt in her mind, she knew this was right.

He spun them around, and walked her backwards to the bed. He held her hips, lowering her onto the bed with a gentle fierceness she had never before experienced. He fell on top of her, ripping off her shirt so quickly buttons hit the opposite wall.

Like he had that night in the library, he took a moment to appraise her. And he looked just as awestruck as before.

"My beautiful princess."

"No waiting," she panted, arching her back up, trying to bring their bodies together again. "Ever since the magic transfer…I've needed this."

He leant above her and trailed kisses down her neck. "We're linked, you and I," he murmured. God, she felt like she was burning at the stake, waiting for him. "You run inside my veins, princess."

"Draco," she moaned, barely holding back a cry. "I need you."

"What do you need, love?" he whispered.

The moment before she answered hung in the air, compelling them for eternity.

She took a deep breath, moving past her last moment to turn back.

"I need you inside me."

His breath hitched, and that famous Malfoy smirk appeared on his face.

"I live to serve, your highness."

Before she could even breath, he was playing with her pant buttons, ripping them down her legs, followed by her panties. She lay before him as she is, not for the first time, but for the most important time.

He nearly moaned at the sight.

He ripped his own off swiftly and for the first time ever, she saw all of him.

He was like marble, a statue crafted by the gods themselves. Every line of him was perfect, from his jawline to the lines on his hips leading down to his member. She reached up and clutched his lips, imagining for a moment how it would feel to _really_ feel him.

He was panting above her. As she held him, and felt his blood, her magic, pumping through him, she felt more powerful than she had in her life. This man, this beautiful godlike man, right now he was _hers_. And only the gods themselves could take this feeling away.

She moved one of her hands down his chest and held him, firm in her hand, as she began to stroke him so slowly he almost collapsed in anticipation.

"Tease," he muttered, moaning above her, thrusting into her hand.

She stopped stroking. He nearly cried out. "What was that, love?" she replied, arching up to kiss the hollow of his neck.

"God I fucking love that," he panted, taking her hands and slamming them down above her head. She moaned. There was something about him in control while knowing that she was the one with all the power that had her trembling for him.

"Last chance to back down, princess," he whispered. His eyes almost broke her with intensity.

"Not a chance in hell," she replied, green meeting grey and magic exploding from both.

That was all he needed.

Before she could even blink, her legs were spread apart, and he was inside her.

When magic had been created, whether from a god, or a spark of intuition, or something else entirely, the world had tilted. As power enveloped the planet, those who had been blessed with the gift were filled with a feeling they could never describe afterwards.

But Hermione Granger, for the first time ever, understood how they had felt.

As the man who held her magic in his veins, and her body in his hands, thrust into her, slowly at first but faster and she cried and begged and met him thrust for thrust, she felt it. Whatever had been passed down for generations, through witches and wizards that had eventually resulted in her, she felt it. Even with the knowledge of her muggle heritage, the power she felt in her hands came, with utmost certainty, from generations of powerful witches before her.

Their eyes never broke contact. If they had, they would have noticed the sparks expelling from them. They would've noticed the glow surrounding them. They would've been shocked that such a carnal act, one they had both experienced before, could ever create such a result. This wasn't sex. This was indescribable bliss.

"Morganna, Hermione," Draco burst out, burying his face in her neck, as he thrust inside her. It was the feeling of all the magic she had given him funneling back to her, connecting them in a way that he wished so desperately that they would've been connected the whole time.

Hermione was right. This feeling wasn't human. This was so much more. As she felt him so fully inside her, she knew she would never feel fully human again. This was bliss. This was ethereal. This was what magic was supposed to be.

"Just touch me," she whispered, barely getting the words out through all her pleasure.

His hands never left her body. They were the link that had been broken between the two of them and now reformed. They were now seared for eternity.

As they came undone, panting, and the world came undone with them, Hermione knew that nothing in her entire life would ever be the same.

 _This was what magic was supposed to be._

And she felt indescribably, and irreversibly, complete.

* * *

 **Review :) They really make my day and I do read them all, I promise.**


	18. Kills

**I'm really on a roll. (I'm on Xmas break which is really the only consistent time I have to write so I'm trying to do as much as I can while I'm in the zone)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

The sun, shining through the one small window in the corner, woke them up.

Draco blinked several times, annoyed at the intrusion. Grumbling a bit, he rolled over only to find his path obstructed by the very asleep and very naked form of Hermione.

That's when he first remembered.

The night before exploded into his mind, the feeling of being on top of her, feeling her wrapped around him, the heat, the power, the magic, it all came flooding back.

 _Merlin almighty._

Draco was no beginner when it came to sex. But he would not insult what had happened last night by calling it sex. It was like being brought to another dimension and back. It was the closest he had ever felt to possessing magic in its essence.

Was it because of the magic transfer? Quite possibly. But Draco had a sneaking suspicion that there was something else at play here: Hermione's heritage.

Having sex with her was like having sex with a god. According to magical tradition, she was the most powerful witch of both their lifetimes. In her blood she held the magic of Morganna le Fay. He remembered what the Dark Lord had said to him, what felt like years ago but really was less than a month.

 _Morganna's blood was created of nothing but magic._

He had called her that last night. Moaning into her neck, he had said _Morganna, Hermione_.

He hoped she hadn't noticed.

The Princess began to stir a little, blinking her way into consciousness. As her eyes opened, he leaned on his hand to look down at her, desperately wanting to be the first thing she saw when she woke up.

"Good morning, Hermione," he whispered, brushing his knuckles slowly up and down her arm.

Several emotions flickered through her eyes as they opened, most of which he could not recognize. However, one stood clear.

Calm.

"Good morning, Draco," she replied in murmur and almost reflexively cuddling into his chest. He held onto her, wrapping her completely into him.

Her breathing slowed, and he felt the last bit of tension leave her.

"I take it," he whispered, his voice dancing over her skin. "Since you have not started screaming, you remember."

"Draco," she murmured. Her use of his name sent shockwaves through him. It wasn't as if she had never used it before, but the way her lips caressed each syllable after the experience of last night almost floored him again.

"I don't think I could ever forget it," she continued, opening her eyes and turning a bit to face him. "I don't think the Dark Lord himself could ever strip that memory from my mind."

"It really was momentous, wasn't it?" he whispered.

"I'm not sure I've ever felt like that in my life," she replied.

"I know what you mean," he answered. "I mean, after this week, I had imagined it. But nothing like that."

He began to kiss the crown of her hair, murmuring as he did so.

"God, Hermione, the feel of you under me, with your magic shooting through my veins…"

"Stop," she nearly moaned. He felt her shiver in his arms. "We have a mission to go on."

"At least give me this," he whispered, throwing care to the wind, turning her over and placing himself atop her. He began to kiss down her neck as she trembled at the touch.

"Draco," she said, her body humming against him. It was nearly a purr. "Where do we even go from here?"

"What do you mean, Princess?" he murmured, wrapping one arm around her back and pulling her up to meet him a bit. "I thought you said we had a mission to go on. We're still in a war, you know."

The look she gave him reminded him of their Hogwarts days, and he had to physically restrain himself from laughing.

"You know that's not what I meant," she replied stoutly. He could still feel her heartbeat, which continued to pound rapidly.

"I don't know, Hermione," he said, choosing to brush a soft caramel curl behind her ear. "I think something has changed, though."

"Everything has changed," she replied, her words more solemn than she initially intended. "I don't think I can pretend that didn't happen, or that I don't want it again."

He smirked. "Not the first time a woman has said that to me."

She snorted. "Cut the crap, Draco. You know as well as I do that that was different."

He nodded. "It was irreversible."

She paused before speaking, her voice small and almost delicate.

"I felt complete."

Her voice was quiet, as if she was testing the waters, dipping her toe in the possibility of _them_ , whatever that may mean. He lent down and pressed his lips to hers.

He had never kissed someone with more tenderness than he did Hermione after those words. His lips moved slowly against hers, connecting them once again. He cupped her cheek and held the small of her back, making it clear that he didn't want anything more than this.

The warmth radiating off her skin infected him, causing her to pull her closer until there was no more space between their chests. She intertwined her fingers in his hair, holding him with quiet resolution, as if nothing in the world could make her let go.

After a few minutes, Draco pulled back.

"I know what you mean," he answered, kissing her forehead softly. "It was if all the magic you had given me had been clawing its way back to you for weeks and last night was the moment where we finally succumbed to what the magic wanted. Us, together."

"I don't know if this feeling means forever, Draco," she whispered. "Magic transfers are permanent. We both knew that when we made this choice."

"I know," he said. "And I think we will have more choices to make. But first, we need to survive this mission. We can't do anything before then."

"You're right, you know," she muttered, before beginning to untangle herself from the blankets.

Draco chuckled. "Never thought I'd get Hermione Granger to admit that to me."

"Oh can it, you tosser," she muttered, throwing her clothes back on.

"Not what I had you saying last night."

She rolled her eyes, pulling her sweater back over her head. "One more thing, Draco. Until we figure out what is going on here, no one can know."

"You really must think I'm a tosser now, Hermione. I'm not that daft."

She laughed before leaning back over the bed and planting one final kiss on his lips.

"I'll meet you downstairs in ten. Wear mission clothes."

With that, she darted out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

As if she had never been there in the first place.

Draco stared at the closed door for several moments before gaining momentum to throw on some robes that Blaise had lent him. His brain was scattered in every direction. He was partly thinking about the mission. He would probably be going up against old comrades who didn't know he was a turncoat. Maybe his parents would be there.

At the very least, the concept of invading his own summer home was slightly absurd.

But beyond that, his brain kept returning to the night prior and Hermione.

She was right, they would have to figure out something. The magic transfer was not going away anytime soon, and he doubted that the feeling he got when he touched was going to stop.

But what did that mean realistically? They were still in a war and he still had a mission.

A mission that he no longer had any sweet clue how to complete.

What could he possibly do to convince Hermione to come back with him? No matter what was going on with them, with their bodies, with their feelings, she wouldn't turn on her side for him.

For the first time, Draco considered doing the opposite. What if he just stayed? What was he really losing out on? He had doubts about the dark side winning the war. He had found himself a place to be within the Order, even if the foundations were shaky.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine a future in this building. Blaise and he could maybe rekindle a friendship. Hermione and he could be together every night, even if no one else knew. He could forget the mission, forget her heritage, forget everything the Dark Lord had ever made him believe, and be content falling into her arms every night.

He could not imagine paradise beyond having her.

But then he remembered his parents, and the dream shattered.

He felt like he was in sixth year all over again; left with a mission he had no idea how, or even if he wanted, to complete, with his parents' lives hanging in the balance. What was he even fighting for anymore? It wasn't as if he was fond of the Dark Lord, or even his ideology.

The image of the young muggle girl with the braids flashed through his mind.

The image of everyone he had killed flashed through his mind in quick succession. The first had been two and a half years prior. It was his first mission after the Astronomy Tower fiasco. He had never before seen the man who raised his wand in Draco's direction, murder in his eyes. The curse left Draco's mouth before he realized what he was saying.

The second was two months after that. It was at Malfoy Manor. The Order was trying to free Ollivander, their first attempt of many. Even with his mask on, Draco felt as if these people knew it was him. More curses headed his way than others, as if these people, many of which he had gone to school with, knew that he was there. He cursed at random. A body hit the floor and he didn't even turn to see who it was.

He did not kill again for a year after that. It was on a patrol. Himself and Yaxley had been ambushed by three in Knockturn alley. The duel was fierce, and everyone was masked. Yaxley shot down two, and he finished off the last. He found out after the fact that it had been the father of the Patil twins, someone close enough to his life to matter, but he was still able to push it from his mind.

The final before the girl had been about two months prior. The Order had ambushed a hold they had in the North where they were keeping several captured muggleborns. They had come out in droves to try and free those jailed.

It had been one of the bloodiest battles of his life, with both sides facing massive casualties.

He had only contributed one. And very unfortunately, he knew exactly who it was. If he hadn't recognized the face of the man he had shot down at the time, he would've remembered by now. The Order mentioned him almost daily.

But they could never know that it was his wand that struck down Dean Thomas. It would ruin any chance he had at success, in his mission, or outside.

The memory of last night flashed through his mind once again.

He hadn't realized how fast his heart was pounding. He had to hold on to the wall for a moment, steadying himself enough to pull on his robes. Taking a few final breaths, he ducked out the door and headed down to the kitchen.

Almost everyone was already down there. His eyes went straight to Hermione, who was talking to one of the Weasley twins, he couldn't remember which to save his life. He walked over to her.

It was incredible to him how she always managed to look so radiant. Unlike everyone else in the room, she was dressed in muggle clothes, dark pants, knee high boots, a black tank, leather jacket with her wand tucked into her belt. Her hair was in a braid down her back, revealing her neck where Draco could just see the remains of a mark she had obviously covered up.

As if she knew he was behind her, which she probably did, she turned at that exact moment.

"Draco," she said, nodding at him. She was holding a box which she handed to him.

"This is one of the wands that was saved from the raid earlier in the week," she explained. "It's yours for the mission."

He nodded, grateful. The Order hadn't let him have a wand since he started his asylum, and if anything showed a shift in their opinion of his status, it was this.

He took the wand out of the box. It was beautiful cherry wood.

"Dragon heartstring," Hermione explained, eyeing him as he twirled it between his fingers.

It wasn't his wand, but it felt pretty close. He caused a few sparks to emit from the end.

"It'll work," he nodded, tucking it inside his robes. He met her eyes. "Thank you."

"No problem," she replied, before turning towards the front of the room. The Weasley twin watched him for a moment, a calculating look on his face. Draco met his eyes and held his gaze until the other decided to follow Hermione's lead and look to the front of the room.

Lupin had just walked in, and laid a bunch of different parchments on the table. After a quick look, Draco realized they were maps of his summer home and the grounds.

"So," Lupin began, eyeing everyone. "We have a chance here to correct mistakes made a few months ago."

"Rumour is that those captured in the north hold have been moved to the Malfoy Summer Home after the failed mission in late August. We have the chance to save those people again, mainly muggleborns, but word is that this is the main holding complex for prisoners of war now."

"The goal is simple," he explained, gesturing at the map. "There is an elaborate dungeon system in the basement."

"Who the fuck has a dungeon system in their summer home?" a voice said snarkily.

Finnigan. Of course.

All eyes shifted to Draco, who almost reflexively shifted his weight closer to Hermione.

Finnigan's eyes narrowed.

Taking a deep breath, but not taking the bait, Draco shrugged, remaining silent.

He felt Hermione let out the breath she was holding beside him.

Lupin continued, ignoring the outburst. "The prisoners are being kept at the very back of the dungeon. The only access route is through the main drawing room, and down the staircase behind the tapestry of the family tree."

"That's not true," Draco spoke up, frowning at the inaccuracy. All eyes turned to him once again. He took a few tentative steps forward, so he was directly next to Lupin. He looked at the map for a moment before pointing out the alternative route.

"There's an ulterior entrance route, in case the prisoners ever tried to rebel and had a hold on the main entrance," he explained, pointing at the map. "There a bookshelf in the second-floor library, third from the door on the left. If you pull it out of the wall, it reveals a passageway that you can use to enter the dungeon complex from the opposite side."

There was a moment of silence.

"Your family makes no bloody sense, mate," said the Weasley twin, shaking his head.

"Didn't say they did," Draco replied. "But at least you have two options because of it."

"Thank you, Malfoy," Lupin replied. "That gives us another option for entrance, meaning that we should split the group. Malfoy, since you're the one who knows about the secret entrance, would you care to lead that group?"

He nodded without thought.

"Who is going that way?" Lupin asked.

"I'll go with Drake," Blaise shrugged, leaning against the wall. "We used to play in that passageway, I know it well."

"I'll go with them as well so they don't screw around," Neville said from his spot by the fire.

"Hey!" Blaise exclaimed. "I've never fought against you guys."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Neville said unabashedly.

Draco tried not to react.

"I'll go with them as well," Hermione said from beside him.

An uneasy silence fell over the group. Draco watched steam escape from Finnigan's ears.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Lupin asked, trying to keep his disbelief in check. "I mean…it is your first mission back…"

She rolled her eyes. "You aren't worried about me, you're worried about Draco. We've already proven that we work well together, and frankly, I'm the only one I trust in this entire order to not leave him behind if I got the chance. Forgive me for not giving some of you the opportunity to curse him and say it was an accident."

Draco tried to keep his smirk in check, but failed mightily. He saw several Order members shoot him dirty looks, but Hermione stood her ground.

"I'm going with that group," she repeated, looking at Lupin directly.

He took a moment before nodding.

Hermione's tense posture relaxed a bit and she inched closer to Draco. Even though they weren't touching, the feeling of standing in such close proximity was comforting. He felt like they were on a circuit, with energy travelling back and forth between them.

As the rest of the roles were assigned, they stayed standing close. Draco knew that Finnigan was watching their every move, as was Blaise, but he found himself not caring. He was focused on two things: Hermione, and the mission.

"Alright," Lupin said, once everyone knew the plan. "We'll all meet at the gates in three minutes. The wards, I imagine, are blood based." He raised an eyebrow at Draco. The latter nodded.

"Well Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said, standing up. "You seem to prove yourself more useful with every day." With that, the members of the Order began to pop away until it was Blaise, Draco and Hermione left.

"You ready for this?" Blaise asked his old friend.

Draco shrugged. "As ready as I could be."

"Lucius might be there."

"I know," Draco said, desperately shielding his mind. "We shall cross that bridge when we get there."

Blaise looked at him for a moment, before nodding and popping away.

That left two.

"It'll be okay," Hermione said, looking up at him. "We'll get through this."

"It's 'we' now?" he noticed, raising an eyebrow. His heart seemed to skip a beat.

Without wasting a second, she went up on her toes and kissed him. It barely lasted two seconds but sent fireworks quaking through his body.

"I think you know the answer to that," she replied, holding out her hand. "In one way or another."

He did. And he didn't. There were factors, and context, and a mission that he seemed doomed to fail.

But fuck it. For this second, he did know the answer, the answer he wanted at least.

He reached out and took her hand. With that, the two of them apparated away, ready to invade his old family summer home.

He was just unsure who he was fighting for.

* * *

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